


Lagniappe

by sodium_amytal



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Witches, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/pseuds/sodium_amytal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Orleans, 1973. Jimmy Page is a well-respected wizard working out of a curio shop in the French Quarter. When a golden god named Robert seeks Jimmy’s help banishing a malevolent spirit, Jimmy is in no position to refuse. Robert is charming, sweet, and undeniably sexy, and Jimmy’s professional interest soon turns into a personal one. But Robert’s supernatural problem is not as simple as it seems, and driving out the ghost means unearthing his long-buried family secret. </p><p>As Jimmy contends with the paranormal menace, he opens up a Pandora’s box of mayhem and corruption by challenging the Grand Coven, the council of witches and wizards who keep order and punish offenders. With ruthless assassins on his heels, Jimmy must find a way to save himself and Robert before it’s too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is Tuesday, January 9th, and it's Jimmy's 29th birthday. So when Jonesy enters the Golden Dawn curio shop and presents him with a freshly-baked King Cake, Jimmy accepts the gift with minimal protest. "For me?"

"Of course it's for you," Jonesy says, his faintly speckled cheeks going pink. "It's your birthday."

Jonesy works alongside Jimmy in the shop, selling various home-baked goodies imbued with herbs and elixirs. It's not unusual for him to offer Jimmy a loaf of bread or a small cake for the purpose of taste-testing the recipe.

"Where are the candles?"

Jonesy's eager-puppy expression falls away.

Jimmy cracks a grin. "I'm joking. It's a lovely gift. Thank you." He sets the package on the counter and opens the lid with his hands while his mind opens the silverware drawer. Then there's a knife and fork plucked from the drawer, ready to do his bidding. He opts not to involve magic in cutting the cake, just slices into the ring and separates a small piece for himself.

"Are you sure you're not the devil?" Jonesy asks, even though they've had this conversation plenty of times before. Some people just wig out when you move things with your mind.

"Now why would you think that? Because I have psychic powers? Because all my shit's old and creepy?"

"Well, yeah." In Jonesy's defense, those are pretty troubling characteristics. "But I guess it doesn't matter much if you are. You're nice, and you haven't put a curse on me."

"That you know about," Jimmy teases, spearing a piece of cake with his fork and stuffing it into his mouth. "So, if you think I'm the devil, is this cake s'posed to be an offering to stay within my good graces?"

"That is... entirely up to you."

"'Cause if it is, there needs to be a real baby in here." Jimmy stops talking, because the cake tastes like an orgasm feels, and he wants to savor it. Whatever the hell Jonesy puts in his baked goods is absolutely amazing. "Oh my God," Jimmy moans around a mouthful of cinnamon sugar dough and vanilla icing.

"So, it's good? You like it?"

"I don't make those kind of noises for just anyone." Jimmy takes a long swig from his steaming hot coffee mug—regular, with lots of cream and sugar. While Jonesy's setting up his corner of the store, unloading boxes filled with fresh breads and confections, Jimmy flips the sign on the door from 'closed' to 'open.' It's just a little after nine a.m., and Jonesy's cake will serve as Jimmy's breakfast this morning. He edges off another piece, sighing in contentment when it hits his taste buds.

"What'd you put in this one?" Jimmy wonders. "Some herb that's gonna make me impotent? Or see everything in weird shades of brown for a week?"

"Jim, you know I'm not a hack. I just want to make people feel good. And I used a bit of brewed coffee."

"Holy shit, do you know me or what?"

Jonesy smiles proudly and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

The bell above the door jingles and announces Lori's entrance to the shop. "Happy birthday, Jimmy!" she squeals.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Jimmy says as Lori approaches Jonesy's table of goods.

"You know I can't live without John's yummy foods," she says, at which Jonesy looks pleased. "And I just had to wish my favorite man a happy birthday." She's wearing a dress that's obviously meant to draw his eye, her dark hair fluffed around her face. And when did fourteen-year-olds start wearing make-up?

"Well, _merci_ , _Mademoiselle_."

"You know I love it when you speak French: the language of love." Lori winks at Jimmy with thick, dark eyelashes. She eagerly picks from Jonesy's selection of baked goods—Mardi Gras-themed cupcakes, caramel apple tarts, white chocolate macaroons, praline brownie squares, sun-dried tomato basil bread, banana bread, and Jonesy's famous cinnamon swirl bread. After trading him money for the neatly-wrapped packages, she heads to the counter to pester Jimmy. "He made you a cake?"

Jimmy's lifting the fork weighted with another piece of cake to his mouth. "Oh, yeah. But you know Jonesy; he doesn't know how to connect with people, so he just bakes them things until they like him."

"Hey!" Jonesy protests half-heartedly. By now, he knows Jimmy doesn't mean any harm in his teasing.

Lori leans against the counter, gaining a few inches by standing on her tiptoes. She gazes at Jimmy like a love-stricken schoolgirl, which she absolutely is. "You're so beautiful, Jimmy. We would make the most adorable babies."

Jimmy sort of chokes on the cake. Lori's prone to being blunt in a flirty way, but her forwardness coupled with her precocity never fails to make Jimmy uncomfortable. "Jesus."

Jonesy snickers.

"And with my bloodline and your abilities..." Lori loves reminding Jimmy she's a distant relative of the New Orleans Voodoo queen Marie Laveau, as though that has any bearing on Jimmy's sexual orientation. "Our children would be the most powerful witches and wizards in the world."

"I'm fifteen years older than you," Jimmy says, because he thinks that's a point that needs reinforcement.

Lori rolls her eyes like her mother's scolding her. "I'm mature for my age. You know, it wasn't that long ago women like me got married and had children. It was normal."

"How far back you wanna go? I mean, you still want the right to vote?"

She scrunches up her face the way a child does when they're wrong. "I'm an educated, sexually-liberated woman. It's not my fault society can't handle that and wants to control the way I express myself."

Jimmy leans forward, and he doesn't fail to notice the way her breathing and blinking rates speed up. Or the way her beige skin flushes when he's near. "You're barking up the wrong tree, sister. I might play ball, but I bat for a whole 'nother team."

"I don't think you do. You just haven't been with a real woman yet."

Jimmy snorts a laugh. "You're fourteen. Go to school and do math and get your carton of milk and your hall pass or whatever they do on this side of the pond, I don't know."

"Want me to teach you, Mr. Page?" Lori says, injecting that sentence with more innuendo than it deserves.

"You know it creeps me out when you call me that."

"Jim," Jonesy cuts in, "are you really going to let a fourteen-year-old girl make you uncomfortable?"

"What's the worst she can do to me?"

"I could spank you."

Jimmy fights the way his mouth wants to curl into a smirk. "Alright, my dear, how can I put this in a way you'll understand? I like men. I like tall, handsome blokes with broad shoulders and wide hands and a nice arse and a huge cock!" At some point in his tirade, he hears the shop bell ding, but it's only when he's finished talking does he look up to see a man standing in the doorway of the shop, the sunlight illuminating his silhouette in a glittering halo.

A cute British voice says, "Oh dear, is this a bad time?"

Jesus Christ, Jimmy's been flailing and ranting about how much he loves cock, and this guy heard every word, or at least enough to very nearly scare him off. Jimmy's face might actually be on fire. He tries to get his breathing under control before he panics and sets the entire place alight. "Uh, n—no, not a bad time. Come in, come in!" He shoots Lori a nasty look, and she makes herself scarce.

Now Jimmy can actually look at this guy, and, holy shit, he's gorgeous. His hair is a wild mane of golden curls that hangs past his shoulders. He's definitely got an amazing body underneath those impossibly-tight jeans and that shirt that looks one size too small. Jimmy would laugh, but the way the material contours the lean muscles of his arms and the sinful shape of his body is no laughing matter. His jeans ride so low on his hips Jimmy wonders how they're even staying up.

He's adorable as fuck, too, with a smile that makes Jimmy's mouth go dry. "Oh, a fellow Brit! We're a bit of an endangered species 'round here, eh?" He laughs, and the sound wraps itself around Jimmy's heart and makes its home there. "Where're you from?"

"Surrey. What about you?"

"I grew up in Kidderminster, but I lived in Stourport for a bit before I came here."

"Ah, a Black Country bloke?"

"Don't hold it against me," he jokes. "I really could use your help."

"Well, what can I help you with?"

The Golden God glances around, like he's nervous about something. Or, maybe, embarrassed? Jimmy hopes this guy doesn't want some sort of love potion. If this cute motherfucker needs metaphysical interference to land a girl, Jimmy doesn't want to live in this world anymore. "Um, I think someone's put a curse on me."

Jimmy breathes out a sigh of relief. "Thank God." Obviously, that's a bit of an odd response, so Jimmy stammers, "That you're not here for some love potion or spell."

There's that crooked smile again, and Jimmy thinks he spots a missing tooth somewhere in the gorgeous stranger's mouth. "Do you get those often?"

"Tons, and I have to turn them away. It's not like mine is the only hoodoo shop around here. Granted, this is the only one where the magic actually works. But I swore to only use my powers for good. Making roofie-juice potions is such a poor use of my time. It's beneath me. And I'm not gonna fill some jars with pink sugar water and call it a day. I've got integrity."

"That's reassuring, 'cause if you can lift this curse I'll be in debt to you the rest of my life."

Jimmy snickers and slips out from behind the counter. "Well, I certainly won't ask that of you. Come in the back with me, and I'll see what I can do about this curse." He leads Hottie McHotface into the back room where he conducts readings and séances. Jonesy can handle the front for a bit. "Please, sit." The stranger obliges, taking a seat at the small round table covered with a colorful tapestry.

Jimmy heads to the small range to brew the tea for the reading. "So, what's your name, Mr. Black Country?"

"Robert."

Such a plain name for such an extraordinary-looking man. "Nice to meet you, Robert. I'm Jimmy."

"Jimmy," Robert says to himself, as though testing out the name on his tongue.

"Have you ever visited an oracle before?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Not much of a believer, huh?" While Robert's busy looking at the decorations around the room, Jimmy accelerates the boiling water with a bit of pyromancy.

"Oh, I believe in it, I just never saw much of a use for divination myself. I like not knowing what's to come. If we knew what the future has in store for us, that would take a lot of the fun out of life."

Jimmy wants to keep Robert talking, because the sound of his voice is soothing and sweet. "So, Robert, what brings you to New Orleans?"

Robert sort of shifts in his seat. He's about an inch or two taller than Jimmy, making him about six feet tall, so maybe he's uncomfortable in the chair. "Well, my flat back home was getting a bit old. Flickering lights, a backed up sink, rats in the walls. And my wife and I thought a fresh start would help."

"You're married?" Jimmy doesn't see a wedding ring on Robert's finger. Not that he's looking or anything. Nope. No sir-ee.

"Not anymore," Robert says with a sad smile that breaks Jimmy's heart.

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that." As much as he wants more details, he doesn't want to pry, especially if something horrible happened to Robert's wife.

"Don't be. It was for the best... I think. But now my home is behaving just like the old place, with the flickering and the scratching, and now I think the heater's broken because it's always so bloody cold. And my daughter and I've been having the most dreadful nightmares."

So Robert has a daughter. Interesting. Jimmy pours two cups of tea and sets them on the table. He sits across from Robert and asks, "Scratching, you say... Have you seen the rats?"

"No, which I think is rather strange. You'd think at least one of 'em would show 'round the place." Robert looks at the cup of tea in front of him. "What's the tea for? Just a nicety because I'm from England?"

Jimmy smiles. "No, I'm going to do a cup reading to determine if you're really cursed or if there's something else at play here. The shapes the leaves take in the cup will tell me what I need to know." Robert takes a long drink, as though eager to attain his reading. "How long have you been living here?"

"About six months, I think. Time seems to have flown by yet barely moved at all, y'know?"

"How did you find me?"

"A mate of mine recommended you. She told me about this friend of hers who raves about some dark-haired magician who runs an occult shop on Royal Street. I thought I'd stop in and see for myself."

"Who's this friend? She might be a regular here."

Robert scratches the back of his neck. "I can't remember. I've never actually met her; she's a friend of a friend. I think her name is Charmaine, or Charlotte, something like that."

Jimmy chuckles. "Oh, Charlotte. Yes, I know her. Nice girl."

Robert takes another long swallow of tea. Jimmy sips at his own, stealing quick glances at this gorgeous blond hippie. It's been a while since Jimmy's gotten laid, but he doesn't think sexual frustration alone is the reason behind Robert's allure. There's a sweet aura about him, like he's the type of person who'd kiss you and laugh with you after fucking you senseless.

Jimmy really shouldn't be thirsting after Robert's dick. He mentioned an ex-wife and a daughter, so he's had sex with a woman at least once. No matter how long Robert's hair is or how much jewelry's wrapped around his wrists or how tight his clothes are, he's probably not attracted to dudes.

"So, how does this tea reading work?" Robert asks, the sound of his voice snapping Jimmy out of his thoughts.

"Oh, well, you'll want to leave maybe a half a teaspoon in the cup so the leaves stick together. Then I'll shake the cup and drain the moisture out. The leaves will form into shapes, and those shapes have special meanings."

Robert nods, takes another drink. He tips the cup toward Jimmy. "Is this enough?"

"That's good." Jimmy takes the cup and jostles it a few times, then inverts it over the saucer to drain away the liquid. "While it drains, I want you to think about your future and what you want out of it. Just concentrate for a moment."

Robert does, and after about half a minute, Jimmy overturns the cup to read the symbols. What he finds there isn't particularly encouraging.

"What's wrong?" Robert asks, his brow creased in worry. "You're making a face."

Jimmy hadn't even realized he'd been frowning at the cup. "Oh, well, um... So the bottom of the cup represents the distant future, the side is events not too far away, and the area near the rim is for things that will happen soon. The closer they are to the handle means the quicker they will happen."

"Yeah?"

Jimmy tilts the opening of the cup so Robert can see. "You see those squiggly lines on the side? They're snakes. Snakes signify a bad omen. Then there's a falcon near the rim, which means a persistent enemy. Then, beside the falcon, there's a cross."

Robert must feel like the pause there is significant, because he asks, "What's the cross mean?"

Jimmy doesn't know how to say it other than just letting it out of his mouth. "Trouble. Or death."

Robert's expression falls, and Jimmy wants to wrap him in a blanket and feed him soup. "But there's some good symbols here too. The hammer at the bottom of the cup means triumph over adversity. And the heart right there"—Jimmy points to it with his pinky finger—"means pleasures to come. And at the bottom, see the clover there? That represents luck, happiness and prosperity. Then there's a letter J near it... Do you know someone whose name begins with a J?"

"Well, there's John, but I just call him Bonzo. And then, um, you."

Jimmy chuckles to himself. "I doubt it's got anything to do with me."

"Maybe you'll bring me happiness and prosperity if you break this curse."

Jimmy smiles. He wants to do all he can for this gorgeous golden god. "Even so, I don't think you're cursed, Robert. The scratching and flickering lights you've been experiencing are signs of a malevolent spirit. And it's highly unlikely both your flat back in England and your home here are haunted. I think this spirit, for whatever reason, has followed you."

Jimmy rises from the table and returns to the shopfront. "Come with me." Robert obeys, and Jimmy grabs a few items from the shelves. "This is white sage, the most basic purification herb. Light this end"—he points to the top of the sage bundle—"and wave it around so it smoulders. Then smudge the windows and doorways with it, and let it burn as long as you'd like." He hands the sage to Robert and displays a small packet. "This is Tibetian ghost-purging incense powder. Just pour some into a small cone of paper, pack it tight, then invert the cone and tap out the powder. You can light the tip and let it burn 'til it's finished."

"And this stuff will work?"

Jimmy chuckles and lets go of the satchet, holding it in the air with his mind. Robert blinks, stunned, and a wry smile forms on his lips. He doesn't look frightened by Jimmy's telekinesis. "What do you think?"

"You're the real deal, aren't you?" Robert says, awed. His smile is bright like the sun, and Jimmy wants to get close enough to burn. "You're a wizard."

Jimmy grabs the packet out of the air. "Why do you think the magic in my shop actually works?"

Robert's more than happy to trade a few wrinkled dollar bills for Jimmy's wares, and he notices the colorful cake on the countertop. "What a lovely cake! Is it any good?"

"You can try for yourself," Jimmy says, gesturing to Jonesy's table of baked goods. "Jonesy makes the best breads in the whole _Vieux Carré._ If we started selling coffee we'd probably put Café du Monde out of business."

Jonesy blushes, which is really visible on his pale complexion. Jimmy always gets a kick out of watching him go red like a little strawberry. "Jim..."

"That good, eh?" Robert dashes over to Jonesy's table and ends up buying another bagful of goodies. Jimmy's not complaining as long as he gets to stare at Robert. And the sooner Jonesy sells out his stock the sooner he goes home, and Jimmy cherishes his alone time.

"So how come you've got a cake?" Robert asks.

"Well, it's Mardi Gras season. And today happens to be my birthday."

Robert grins in an endearing, goofy sort of way. "Well, happy birthday! Have you had a good one so far?"

"I can't complain." Robert's definitely been a highlight of Jimmy's day, for sure. A present from the gods. "Oh, hey, before I forget, would you mind stopping in again in about a week? I'd like to conduct another reading and see if the bad spirits have gone."

"Yeah, I can do that. I'm sure I'll be back either way."

Jimmy just can not make himself stop smiling. "That's great. I wish you the best."

"Thanks, and happy birthday!" Robert says before exiting the shop. Jimmy watches him go, his gaze fixated on Robert's perfect ass. Jesus, there's no reason for anyone to have an ass that perfect. It's almost unbelievable, and Jimmy performs the unbelievable on a daily basis.

He's vaguely aware of someone saying his name, but it takes Jonesy waving a hand in front of his face for Jimmy to snap out of his trance. "Jim!"

"What?" Jimmy startles.

Jonesy's sort of laughing at him. "You were staring."

"It's my birthday, goddammit. Let me have this."

Later on, when Jimmy has a few moments to himself, he returns to the back room and drinks the remainder of his tea. He swishes the leaves around, drains the moisture, and examines the grounds in the cup.

The most prominent symbols inside are a heart, a cross, a dragon—great and sudden change—and a raven—disappointment and trouble.

Jimmy never much cared for tea anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The next afternoon, Richard Cole walks into the shop, bringing the stench of smoke and death along with him. Jimmy inhales and immediately wishes he hadn't. The odor sticks in his throat like tar. He knows Cole didn't just come from a barbecue or rescuing a baby from a burning building. Ancient recollections hurtle toward the surface, the memory of that smell etched into his amygdala.

"Jim," Cole says in greeting with a solemn nod.

Jimmy stays behind the counter, trying to keep his distance from the smell, but Cole moves closer, and the odorous cloud chokes off Jimmy's supply of air.

Jimmy offers a nod in return. He doesn't want the details, but he knows Cole will supply them anyway. "Danny had to be dealt with," Cole says, his voice soft and serious. "He broke the rules."

Cole is a member of the Grand Coven, the supreme command of witches that sanctions the use of magical powers. The world of witchcraft and wizardry has only two rules: do harm to none, and what's dead stays dead. Black magic is forbidden. Anyone using their powers to hurt or kill or screw with the natural order of life and death is taken to task by the Grand Coven. They're tantamount to the United States judicial system, albeit with a hell of a lot more capital punishment.

Cole continues, "He mixed up a love potion and took it to a party. It got into the punch."

Jimmy frowns and says nothing. He didn't know Danny Goldberg that well, but from the few interactions they had he seemed like a decent guy.

He's running out of oxygen. He has to take a breath. Jimmy inhales, and the smoke coats the inside of his lungs. He remembers with vivid clarity the first time he smelled this putrid mix of smoke and burning flesh. It was 1966, and he'd just settled into New Orleans' coven of fellow witches and wizards. He was still young, happy to have found people like him with mystifying powers. As a hazing ritual, Cole and his right-hand man Peter Grant took Jimmy and a few other new recruits to a rural area in Louisiana where a burning was to take place. Cole explained that it was important for everyone to see what the punishment was for breaking the rules, but Jimmy thinks it was because Cole is a sick bastard. He wishes he'd never seen any of it.

Jimmy doesn't know who the guy was tied up on that pyre or what his crime was. He just remembers the screams that pierced the air when the fire exploded at the man's feet and raced up his gasoline-soaked body. Witches don't disintegrate into dust or melt or any of that Hollywood bullshit. They burn, just like humans do. It seemed to go on forever, and Jimmy watched every second of it, too much in shock to look away. The screams may have faded, but the smell was stronger than ever. It seeped into his clothes and his hair and his skin and his brain. When he got home, he destroyed the clothes he'd been wearing and stayed in the shower for over sixty minutes, furiously scrubbing the scent of death and fire out of his scalp and his pores. Watching a person being burned alive is stomach-turning, and he may have vomited down the shower drain.

But his mind was the one place Jimmy couldn't scrub clean. Whatever you put into your brain stays there, for better or worse. That man's screams, his warped and flame-seared face, and the smell of his roasting flesh have haunted Jimmy ever since. After that night, Jimmy began sleeping with magical talismans of every kind hung above his bed—a crucifix, dreamcatchers, mojo bags, anything that might stave off those vivid nightmares.

For someone like Cole to not only authorize witch burnings, but to view each one with no signs of psychological damage is indicative of something truly evil.

"What's wrong with silver bullets?" Jimmy asks. "They don't do the job anymore?"

Cole just makes a face, like Jimmy's an asshole for suggesting a less gruesome method of execution. "Don't try to bring your flower-power, hippie liberal bullshit into this. Go bang a tambourine and write some protest songs—Bob Dylan's had some great success with that—but leave the big decisions to people like me."

"Look, I'm just suggesting a more humane way of dealing with this."

"I know your kind, Page. You're too soft. Tell you what, if you can eliminate a rule-breaker with your silver bullet method, maybe I'll take it into consideration."

This is the part where Jimmy's supposed to put aside his own personal disgust and step up. What's the big deal with enduring more nightmares if it means sparing people cruel, inhumane deaths? But Jimmy is a coward and impossibly selfish, and he can't bear any more awful dreams, can't handle the weight of someone's death on his soul. So he shakes his head and murmurs, "Next time you come 'round, take a shower first."

Cole laughs until the door jingles shut behind him.

* * *

It takes five more days for Robert to return to the shop. He's wearing deceptively tight jeans and a flowery blouse. Jimmy feels any traces of gloom melt away at the sight of Robert's gorgeous face. He's so beautiful, despite how his brow's creased in worry as he approaches the counter.

"Robert, it's good to see you again," Jimmy says before realizing how awful that sounds.

Robert manages a weak smile, scratches the back of his head. The bracelets around his wrist clink together with the motion. "I wish it were under better circumstances. But I just stopped in to tell you the sage didn't work. And I tried that other stuff too—the incense—and it seemed to work for about a day or two, then all the weird things started up again. I'm in a bit of a rush, but is there anything else I can try?"

"Um, yeah, there's a mineral bath you can mix up for protection. It might take some time to explain, though. Maybe you can drop by tomorrow when you've got the time?"

Robert shakes his head, his gold curls swaying. "No, no, I need to take care of this tonight. Carmen won't sleep in her own bed anymore. She doesn't even want to be in the bloody house, but I can't have her sleeping at the neighbors' place every night..." He pouts and glances off in frustration. "Look, I've gotta nip over to the bar for a bit, but if you could come 'round there after you're done here? It's a Monday night, so it probably won't be too busy."

Jimmy smiles and leans in, his arms on the countertop. "Which bar, _mon cher_? This is New Orleans."

Robert looks a bit flustered, which makes him even more adorable. "Oh, um, O'Brien's on St. Peter. I'll be there 'til about ten or so."

"Alright, I'll drop by after I close tonight."

"Great, thank you so much!" Robert rushes for the door before Jimmy can sufficiently ogle him. "See you later, Jimmy!"

After Robert's out the door, Jimmy sighs like a love-struck fool. Apparently the sight of that gorgeous blond turns Jimmy into a tittering schoolgirl. He's still fawning over the memory of Robert's perfect, shapely ass when Jonesy returns from his lunch break a few minutes later.

"Did Mr. Dreamboat stop in again?" Jonesy asks with a chuckle.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, you've got the same look Lori does when she looks at you." Jonesy laughs at the way Jimmy's face crinkles in offense, and he sets a paper bag and a styrofoam cup on the counter. "I brought you lunch. A cup of jambalaya, bread pudding, and a Dr. Pepper."

Jimmy raises his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised by Jonesy's generosity and attention to detail. "My favorite," he says with a grin. "But it's not my birthday anymore, John. How much do I owe you?" Jimmy makes an awkward attempt to go for his pockets, but Jonesy stops him.

"No, no, don't worry about it. My treat." His smile is disarming and innocent.

Jimmy's probably wearing too much of a suspicious squint, but in his defense people don't generally do nice things for each other without some sort of hidden agenda. But Jonesy's always been like this with Jimmy. It would be weird if Jonesy didn't go out of his way to make Jimmy's day better.

"Umm, okay, thanks." Jimmy should probably do something nice for him in return. "Hey, do you wanna get a drink or two after I close?"

Jonesy's mouth curls into a nervous smile. "What?"

"Yeah, I gotta meet Robert tonight anyway and give him a mineral bath." Jonesy throws him a 'what the fuck' look, and Jimmy works his way through that sentence and realizes how it sounds. He really hopes he's not as red as he feels. "N—no, I mean, y'know, ingredients for the bath, for him to use at home without my involvement. Though I wouldn't mind being involved if he asked."

That slams a huge awkward silence around them. The miscommunication was awkward enough, but then Jimmy had to go prattling on about his boner for Robert. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Jonesy is looking at him like he thinks Jimmy has seriously lost his mind. "Well, um, I think I'll have to take a raincheck on that drink. I ought to get to bed early tonight. I've got lots to bake in the morning. Thanks for offering, though."

Jimmy nods and wishes he didn't run his mouth so goddamn much.

* * *

Jimmy makes it to the bar around eight p.m. Inside, there's music playing on the jukebox, the lights turned down to keep everything dim and smoky. The neon signs and streetlamps outside provide adequate illumination, and Jimmy scans the bar for Robert's oversized blond mane. It's not that crowded on a Monday night, but Jimmy doesn't see him at any of the tables or even sitting at the bar.

It takes Jimmy a moment to realize Robert's the one _tending_ the bar.

"You didn't tell me you worked here," Jimmy says, taking an open seat and smiling at him.

Robert chuckles. "I thought it was implied. Or did you assume I just drink for eight hours a day?"

"Well, you _are_ English."

Robert's mouth does that adorable pinched smile thing. "What can I get for you, Jimmy?"

Jimmy resists his urge to order something fruity and just goes with a Jack and Coke. Robert mixes the drink and sets it in front of him. Jimmy takes a swallow before handing over two small bottles. "Here's the ingredients for that mineral bath I was talking about. The instructions are on the labels, but the idea is to add one tablespoonful each of ammonia, salt, and this vinegar mix in your bath for nine successive nights—or mornings, I suppose."

"How much?"

"I'll give 'em to you for two dollars."

"Fair enough." Robert trades the money for the bottles and stashes them underneath the bar.

"You know all this talkin' about baths is just makin' him think about you naked," the guy beside Jimmy says to Robert with a chuckle.

Robert laughs and snaps a bar towel at him. "Shut up!" He turns to Jimmy, looking a little embarrassed. "Just ignore Bonzo. He runs his mouth a lot, mostly to take the piss outta me."

Bonzo has long dark hair and a beard, and he looks like the kind of guy who drives a motorcycle, or at least owns one. He seems amused by Robert's reaction, and spins on his barstool to focus his attention on Jimmy. "You a friend of Plant's?"

"Y—yeah." Jimmy shoots Robert a curious glance, then looks at Bonzo. "Plant... because he's so tall? Like a... tree? Or a giant sunflower?"

Bonzo laughs at that one. "'Cause it's his last name, ya fool."

"Of course it is." Jimmy takes another swallow of his drink. Clearly he's not drunk enough to be comfortable in social situations.

Robert's laughter is kind and gentle, and Jimmy doesn't feel like he's being mocked. "Please don't scare him off," Robert pleads with Bonzo. "I really need his help."

"So, this is the witch doctor you were talkin' about?" Bonzo asks, raising his beer mug to his lips.

"Yes, so be on your best behavior," Robert scolds before flitting off to the other end of the bar to tend to other patrons. Of course, Jimmy surreptitiously checks out his ass as he walks away.

Bonzo loudly clears his throat, and Jimmy nearly jumps out of his skin. "See somethin' you like?"

"Didn't Robert say to be on your best behavior?"

"Chill out, I'm not gonna give you no trouble. He's got a great ass. It'd be impolite not to stare."

Jimmy absolutely cannot comprehend what he's hearing. He looks around the room, wondering if he somehow stepped into a gay bar where people just say that kind of shit out loud. Bonzo casually sips his beer, and Jimmy catches the glint of a wedding ring on his finger. He decides to side-step that subject entirely. "So, uh, how'd you meet Robert?"

"He moved next door to me, so I've known him for a while."

"Have you experienced anything... strange in Robert's house?"

"Well, it's Robert, so you gotta grade on a bit of a curve," Bonzo chuckles. "But, I dunno, the whole place has kind of a weird feel to it. Like, you know how you get the creeps when you feel like you're being watched? It's sorta like that. Just... unsettling."

Jimmy can't help but feel bad for Robert and his daughter who've been haunted by this... _thing_ for so long.

Robert approaches them with caution. "Bonz', you're not embarrassing me, are you?"

"Nah, you do a great job of that yourself."

Robert rolls his eyes and takes hold of the nearly-empty beer mug in front of Bonzo. "You need another?"

Bonzo shakes his head and slides off the stool. "Nah, I gotta get home." He slaps a few dollars onto the counter. "See you later."

"Tell Carmen I said hi," Robert says, and Bonzo nods before disappearing out the door and onto the street.

"Is Carmen your daughter?" Jimmy asks.

Robert looks pleased that Jimmy picked up on that. "Yeah. Bonzo's wife watches her while I'm working."

"Does his wife know he wants to sleep with you?" The words sort of tumble out before Jimmy can stop them.

To Jimmy's total surprise, Robert laughs, going a bit pink. He leans in and says, "Well, I've slept with both of them, so... yeah, I s'pose so."

If Jimmy had been drinking, he definitely would have spit it all over Robert, because that's absolutely a spit-your-drink moment. How the fuck is he supposed to respond to that? And how is he not supposed to _imagine_ it? "Holy shit." Jimmy really wants to know the details, but he doesn't want to seem like a huge pervert.

Robert grins and tucks a chunk of hair behind his ear. "Don't tell me a man who can move things with his mind is scandalized by a threesome."

That really isn't helping Jimmy on the 'not imagining things' front. He takes a long drink to ease his nervous mind and attentive dick. "'M not sure 'scandalized' is the proper word." 'Aroused' is much more appropriate. Robert chuckles, and Jimmy sees a fleeting glimpse of that missing tooth again. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to that tooth of yours?"

"Oh, it was the ghost! I was cleaning up 'round the house, and he literally pulled the rug right out from under me! I hit the corner of the table, and that's that."

"So I suppose that's the straw the broke the camel's back?"

"It's never harmed me before," Robert says. "It might be getting angrier, or that whole thing might've just been an accident." He looks uncertain for a moment. "If this mineral bath stuff doesn't work, what else do you suggest?"

"We could give the house itself a cleansing. I didn't think much of it 'cause you said this was all going on before you moved, but you did move to the most haunted city in the United States." Jimmy cracks a smirk. He opens up the cocktail napkin underneath his glass. "You got a pen?"

Robert rummages around and produces a black ink pen.

Jimmy scribbles his phone number onto the napkin and hands it over, trying not to feel like this is some seedy hook-up they're arranging for here, because that's exactly what it looks like. "If you have any more problems, just call me. Day or night."

"That's very kind of you, Jimmy," Robert says, tucking the napkin into the back pocket of his jeans and right against his ass. Jimmy has never in his life wanted to be a napkin until right now. "I'll try not to be too much of a nuisance."

"You're being haunted by a malevolent spirit. I think it's okay to be a nuisance."

Robert has the kind of smile that lights up a room, a smile that you can't help but return, and Jimmy feels like he's free-falling just looking at him.

Robert leaves to tend to other customers, while Jimmy stares at the slowly melting ice in his glass. He hopes the mineral bath will do the trick, but part of him secretly fears what will happen if it does, because Robert won't have any reason to visit the shop anymore. The rush of dopamine Jimmy gets from seeing Robert is unreal, unlike anything he's ever experienced before.

It's not as though Jimmy doesn't know how to find Robert, but he doesn't want to be that creepy motherfucker at the bar who comes in every night and tries to wrangle a date out of the cute bartender.

"Want me to top you off?" Robert asks, suddenly appearing in front of him.

 _I want to take_ your _top off_ , Jimmy thinks but doesn't say, for which he's incredibly grateful. Instead, he just sort of nods, and Robert supplies him with a fresh drink.

For a moment, Robert just stares at him, and Jimmy wonders if he's got something on his face before Robert says, "Is there any sort of significance to that tattoo you've got there?"

Jimmy occasionally forgets he even has it. He rubs a hand over the ink on the side of his neck. "Oh, yeah, the, uh, Unicursal Hexagram, the symbol of Thelema. It's a religion based on the idea of True Will, which is essentially one's calling or purpose in life. The core is 'do what thou wilt.'"

Robert looks intrigued. "So how do you find your True Will?"

"You seek it out. It's a spiritual quest known as the Great Work."

"And have you found yours yet?"

"I think so. I can't imagine my life without magick. I was born with an aptitude for, well, you saw it: making shit move with my mind. Over the years, I developed other special abilities. I feel that my purpose on this earth is to better the world through the use of my magick."

"Well, you're doing a fine job of it. I certainly feel a lot better since I discovered your little shop."

Robert has charm Jimmy can only wish for, easy honesty and warm smiles with zero pretense. "I hope everything works out for you," Jimmy says, and he means it. He takes a long, final drink before standing up and rifling through his pockets. "As much as I'd love to keep chatting, I don't want to overstay my welcome." He drops a generous handful of bills onto the counter. "Let me know how things turn out."

"Yeah, of course. Have a good night, Jimmy."

Jimmy glances over his shoulder when he reaches the door and notices Robert's eyes on him as he leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

A little over a week later, Jimmy receives a phone call that wakes him from his mid-afternoon slumber. He rolls onto his side and rubs his face, trying to coax the sleep from his head. He reaches out in the general direction of the phone and manages to wrap his fingers around the receiver. Jimmy hoists the phone to his sleep-groggy head, murmurs, "Where y'at?"

Robert's voice on the other end is a rather nice wake-up call. "Jimmy? Were you sleeping?"

"Yeah, I sleep in when the shop's closed."

"You're closed? Oh, bugger all, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't worry about it, _cher_ , what d'ya need?"

"Well, I wanted to tell you the mineral bath didn't work, but since you're closed I'll have to stop by some other time."

Jimmy sits up in bed, drags a hand through his messy hair. "Nonsense, I'll come over. If that's—if you're okay with that."

Robert makes a shocked sort of gasping sound. "That's very sweet of you, Jimmy, but you don't have to trouble yourself like that."

"'S no trouble at all. Do you have a mop?"

"Yeah."

"Great, I'll bring over some things for a cleansing wash. What, uh, what kind of floors do you have in your house?"

"Hardwood. It's easier to clean, don't you think?"

"Absolutely, yeah. I'll drop on by."

"Dress warmly. It's very cold here," Robert warns. He gives Jimmy his address and thanks him profusely before hanging up. Jimmy slides out of bed and freshens up, throws on some clothes.

Jimmy lives on the second floor of the shop, which is a crude attempt at a one-bedroom apartment. His personal quarters consist of a bedroom, a small bathroom, and an even smaller closet. He's never seen much need for anything else. The back room of the shop has a range on which to boil water for coffee or tea. He doesn't cook often, just uses the range for an occasional pot of noodles or soup. Most of his meals are eaten in the many restaurants and eateries in the French Quarter, because what's the point of living in New Orleans if you don't explore its culinary offerings?

Jimmy heads downstairs and grabs a few things from the shop, then he's on his way to Robert's.

Robert lives in a small parrot-blue house on Marigny Street that's almost entirely obscured by trees. On the left is a Creole Cottage-style home painted a lively yellow color, with a handful of old cars in the front and back. That must be Bonzo's house, Jimmy thinks as he approaches Robert's front door.

It only takes Robert a few seconds after the knock to answer. He's dressed in a tacky brown sweater that makes him look like he ought to be smoking a pipe and telling stories by a fireplace. "Thank you so much for coming," Robert says, ushering him inside.

The chill of the house greets Jimmy like a long-lost friend. Why is it so goddamn cold in here, he wonders, as though he doesn't already know the answer. A tan and black-colored dog bounds up to him as he enters, looking at him with expectant blue eyes. It might be a collie or a sheepdog or... Jimmy doesn't really know dogs. The dog sort of jumps onto its back legs and moves like it's trying to climb Jimmy.

"Strider, don't be a pain in the arse," Robert scolds, grabbing onto his collar and moving him away from Jimmy.

Jimmy chuckles at the name. "You're a Tolkien fan?"

"Is it obvious?"

"Well, you named your dog Strider, so, yes." He flashes Robert a friendly smile. Strider sniffs at him for a while until Jimmy has been deemed unthreatening, then he trots off to the living room and hops onto the couch beside a small blonde girl Jimmy's assuming is Robert's daughter.

"This must be Carmen," Jimmy says. Mr. Observant. He approaches her with caution, not wanting to frighten her, but she doesn't seem scared. "I'm Jimmy. I'm a friend of your dad's. He asked me to come and help send away the ghost in your house."

He doesn't expect her to wrap her arms around his middle and hug him tight, but that's exactly what she does. "Thank you!" she says, sounding on the verge of tears.

"I won't let anything hurt you or your dad."

Carmen looks at him with wide eyes. "How can you do that?"

Jimmy sits beside her on the couch in the empty space. "Because I'm a wizard." He grabs the television remote off the coffee table and levitates it in the air, all with his mind.

"That's so cool!" Carmen exclaims, won over by Jimmy's magical powers. She stares at the remote, as though trying to figure out the 'trick' Jimmy's using to keep it airborne. Even Strider looks interested, his ears perked up.

"That's how I can help you, because I can do things other people can't," Jimmy says. He settles the remote back onto the table without turning away from her. He opens the bag he brought with him and shows her some of the items inside. "I'm going to wash the floor with these special oils, and they'll keep the ghost away."

"Forever?"

"Well, I certainly hope so. But if not, I'll do everything I can to make sure this ghost doesn't bother you or your dad again."

She nods and scratches the dog behind the ears. "Thank you, Jimmy."

"You're pretty good with her," Robert says, leaning over the top of the couch.

"I guess so. I've thought about having a child or two of my own, but..." He shrugs the end of that sentence into oblivion.

Robert seems like he wants to poke at that, but he doesn't raise the topic again. Instead, they get started on cleansing the house. Robert digs out the mop and bucket from the outside closet while Jimmy mixes up the cleaning solution. Jimmy impresses both Carmen and Robert by telekinetically mopping the floor, his feet kicked up on the coffee table while the mop glides. Strider, however, is weirded the fuck out by this magic shit, and he stares at the mop as though taking his eyes off it might give it permission to murder him.

"How do you do that?" Robert wonders. They're all sort of cuddled together on the couch, Robert and Carmen on one side and Strider and Jimmy on the other.

"It's mostly about concentration. But I was born rather adept at telekinesis, so it's always come naturally to me."

Robert looks at the mop, then back to Jimmy. "Talking doesn't break your concentration?"

"It becomes second nature after a while, like being able to drive and talk at the same time. Of course, I'm more skilled than most of my kind, so it comes easier to me." It's hard to say that and not sound like a braggart, but confidence is supposed to be sexy, right?

Robert seems to think so. "What else can you do?"

"A magician never reveals all his secrets, Robert," Jimmy says with a smirk. He's glad he wore a sweater, because he's beginning to feel a chill. He tugs the sweater tighter around himself. "Are you sure your air-conditioner isn't broken?"

"Bonzo says it's working properly. He knows more about these things than I do. But I don't mind the cold that much. It reminds me of home." Robert gives him a fond smile. "And it's quite nice to come out of the heat and into the cold."

Jimmy can't determine if the icy temperature is due to the presence of a spirit or just the malfunction of the air-conditioning. He'll need more evidence to prove his case. "You said the lights flicker?"

"Oh, yes, isn't it strange they're not doing it now?" Robert looks around the room. "Of course they'd behave now and make a fool of me."

Jimmy shrugs. "Maybe the cleansing is working." He hasn't heard any weird scratching sounds either.

"These things usually work at first, then they wear off and I've got to bother you again."

"It's no bother," Jimmy says, and he means it. "This is what I do. True Will, remember?"

A shy smile spreads on Robert's face, and Jimmy can't help but smile back. "How long have you lived in New Orleans?"

"A little over ten years. I ran into some trouble back home during my last year of secondary school. I used my powers to stop a fight. People saw, and, well, you know how people talk... After I graduated, my parents thought it would be best if I went somewhere more"—Jimmy searches for the word—"accepting of my abilities. I'd visited New Orleans on a summer holiday a few years before."

Robert perches his elbow on top of the couch, his head leaning on the heel of his hand. "So you've had your little shop there for ten years?"

"Not exactly. I went to uni and got an MBA, so I've had the store for about five or six years."

"Which uni?"

"Tulane."

Robert grins. "No way, that's where Carmen's mum goes to school!"

Jimmy hadn't been expecting that. He's so glad the mother of Robert's daughter isn't dead, but he feels guilty for lusting over this man who probably hasn't been separated from his wife for very long. "Oh, really? What a coincidence. What does she study?"

"Medicine." Jimmy must be wearing a worrisome expression, because Robert adds, "It was an amicable separation, Jimmy. We're on very good terms."

Jimmy feels compelled to ask, "What happened?"

For a brief moment, Robert looks like he doesn't know how to answer that. "Maureen thought it was for the best. When she was a teenager, she summoned a djinn, which is a sort of genie. She never gave it much thought until after Carmen was born, because that's when all the spooky things started happening. Since djinn can be good or evil, she thought maybe it was evil and coming after her family as a sort of penance for having granted her wish years ago. Djinn are usually regarded as malicious or dangerous, capable of bringing bad luck or illness or death.

"So we moved here, thinking by putting the Atlantic Ocean between us and the spirit would do some good. But that didn't stop it, and Maureen decided it was best if she stayed away from us, that the djinn wouldn't hurt us if she kept her distance. She had a thought that maybe the djinn had possessed her, so she consulted an exorcist, but whether or not that worked is up for debate."

"But it's not a djinn, is it?" Jimmy asks, stating the obvious.

Robert shakes his head. "I don't think so. She tried everything to ward it off. According to legend, djinn will not open a locked door. So how is it getting inside if all our doors are locked and Maureen's not in the house?"

Jimmy can't shake the question brewing in his mind. "Why don't you wear your wedding ring?"

"Because we're not married anymore," Robert says, like he doesn't understand.

"But why? Because of this whole ghost thing?"

"That was part of it."

"What's the other part?"

"We married very young," Robert says with a sad smile, and Jimmy thinks he understands.

After the house has been cleaned, Carmen announces that she's hungry, which prompts Robert to ask Jimmy to stay for dinner.

"Oh no, no, I couldn't. You don't need to—"

"Rubbish. You came all the way here and mopped my floors. The least I can do is offer you something to eat." Robert gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen.

"Will you stay? Please?" Carmen begs, and Jimmy can't say no.

Robert claims he's not much of a cook, so dinner consists of spaghetti and meatballs with a loaf of French bread; Jimmy's not picky. They eat in a comfortable silence punctuated by Carmen's occasional inquiries about Jimmy's wizardly abilities.

"How come you don't wear one of those sparkly robes?" she asks.

"Because then everyone would know I'm a wizard."

"What's wrong with that?"

Jimmy wonders how to explain. "Some people don't like wizards. They're very jealous that we can do things they can't, and some of them try to hurt us."

"Oh..." She looks upset for a moment. "What's that thing on your neck?"

Ah, the tattoo. "It's the symbol of my religion, Thelema."

"What's it mean?"

"I s'pose it means 'do what thou wilt.' It represents striving toward your true purpose or destiny."

"Cool."

"Why don't we let Jimmy eat, luv'?" Robert interjects, gently.

Jimmy chuckles. "It's alright. I don't mind."

"We don't have guests very often."

"Well, I doubt you'd wanna invite anyone over to a house with a ghost in it." Jimmy looks at Carmen. "Carmen, how old are you?"

"Seven," she says with her mouth full.

"You're a big girl now, aren't you? I just turned twenty-nine."

Her eyes go wide. "Wow, you're older than Dad!"

Robert looks embarrassed, but Jimmy just laughs. "Really? How old is your dad?"

Carmen shrugs. "I don't remember, but it wasn't that old."

"I'm twenty-four," Robert supplies.

Jimmy does the math in his head. If Carmen's only seven, that means Robert was about seventeen or eighteen when she was born. Married young, indeed. He knows there's a story behind that, but he doesn't dare ask.

After dinner, Robert takes Strider outside while Carmen washes up for bed. Jimmy keeps watch in the living room, studying the various décor in an attempt to learn more about Robert. His bookshelves are filled with fantasy novels and various other types of fiction. There's an entire shelf stuffed with record albums, and Jimmy spends a few moments leafing through them. He's surprised to discover he and Robert share a good deal of musical tastes—blues and British rock among the most prevalent.

He gets lost in reading the spines of Robert's books, and Robert comes through the door with Strider. "There's a poor little bird with a broken wing out there," Robert says.

"Where?"

Robert unhooks the leash from Strider's collar. "Out in front. It must've been attacked by some animal."

Jimmy goes outside to investigate. Sure enough, there's a pigeon hobbling around in the front yard, its left wing bent and broken. He approaches the bird and kneels down. "Come here. I won't hurt you."

It's uncertain whether the bird trusts him, because it can't fly away. Jimmy picks it up and covers its wounded wing with a hand. He concentrates his energy, focuses on healing the bird, and its wing straightens out. Then it's flapping both wings and flying out of Jimmy's hands, chirping happily as it nestles in a nearby tree.

"How did you do that?" Robert asks in awe as Jimmy reenters the house.

"You were watching?"

"Of course. I figured you had something up your sleeve." Robert studies Jimmy with a whimsical smile. "You're amazing. I didn't know you could do something like that."

"I didn't either until I was a teenager. Where I grew up, there were a lot of rabbits milling about, and I found one in our backyard that must've gotten attacked by a dog or something. I felt compelled to do something, so I put my hands on it, and I somehow healed it. So, naturally, I practiced on all the wounded animals I came across—birds, rabbits, my mum's cat."

"It just works on animals?"

"I healed my own broken arm once, so, no."

"You can't fix my tooth, can you?" Robert says, half-joking.

"I'm afraid not. The gum's probably healed over, so replacing the tooth would hurt like hell. You'd be better off visiting a dentist."

"It was worth a shot."

"Though a loose tooth I could fix," Jimmy ponders aloud.

"Oh, don't tell Carmen. She hates losing teeth. When I lost mine she cried for five minutes." Robert laughs.

"It probably had something to do with all the blood pouring out of your face."

"Mm, that might've done it."

Carmen emerges from the bathroom in her pajamas. She seems surprised that Jimmy's still here, and she rushes up to Robert and latches onto his legs. "Is Jimmy staying over?"

Robert looks at Jimmy, taken aback by her request. "Oh... No, I don't think—"

"Please?" Carmen begs, dragging out the word the way only a child can. "If Jimmy stays he can protect us!"

Robert casts another curious glance Jimmy's way. "I think Jimmy wants to go home for the night—"

"Are you kidding? I'd love to stay, if it's alright with you."

Carmen takes Jimmy's suggestion as fuel for her argument. She hugs Robert tighter. "Please, Daddy? I promise I'll sleep in my bed!"

Robert sighs and looks at Jimmy again. "Are you absolutely sure it's no trouble? I'd hate to inconvenience you."

"It's fine. Really. I don't mind at all," Jimmy promises.

"Alright, he can stay," Robert says, and Carmen cheers.

They settle in on the couch and watch TV until Robert says it's bedtime for Carmen. "But I'm not tired!" she protests. "And I don't have to go to school tomorrow!"

"How about I make you some hot cocoa?" Jimmy offers. He winks at Robert, and Carmen falls for the bribe. She follows him into the kitchen and watches curiously as he mixes ingredients together in the pan.

"Do you have kids, Jimmy?" she asks.

"No, I don't."

"Are you married?"

"Not yet."

"How come you're so old and you haven't got anyone?"

"Carmen," Robert sighs wearily from the couch. "Jimmy isn't old. And even if he were, it's not polite to say so."

Jimmy chuckles. "That's a good question," he tells her. "I don't really have an answer. I just haven't found the right person, I s'pose." He tries not to think about how Robert might be that person.

Jimmy accelerates the heating process a bit through a bit of pyrokinesis, which Carmen is endlessly awed by. He pours her a glass, tosses some marshmallows inside and adds a dollop of whipped cream. "Robert, do you want any?"

"If you're offering."

Jimmy pours each himself and Robert a glass, garnishing appropriately. Carmen heads back to the couch and sort of nudges Strider out of her spot. Strider seems curious about the hot cocoa, so Carmen offers him a bit of whipped cream on her finger, which he happily accepts.

"Don't feed him that," Robert laughs.

Jimmy hands Robert a warm mug and finds an empty space on the couch. Strider looks at Jimmy, like he thinks whatever's in Jimmy's mug is something new. "You know what this is," Jimmy tells him playfully. "And you can't have it anyway. It's bad for you."

Strider huffs a sigh of annoyance and settles his head on Carmen's lap.

"This is really good, Jimmy," Robert says after taking a sip. "Better than mine."

"Sometimes I make a grown-up version when I can't sleep," Jimmy says. "It's the only food-related thing I can make with any degree of skill."

"You can't cook?"

"I can follow directions on a package, but that's as far as it goes. I could never do what Jonesy does. I wouldn't even know how to start."

"Maureen's folks were big on family recipes, so I learned a bit from her," Robert says. "Carmen's picky, though. Of course."

Carmen doesn't protest, just sips her hot cocoa diligently. It doesn't take very long after she's finished before her eyelids grow heavy, then Robert's picking her up and murmuring, "Okay, love, time for bed." She's half-asleep already, so she flops in his arms and lets him carry her down the hall and into her bedroom. Strider hops off the couch and follows them, clearly disinterested in Jimmy.

Jimmy feels awkward sitting alone in a strange house, so he washes the empty mugs in the sink, just for something to do. Plus, Robert probably won't want to invite him back if he's a slob.

Robert, however, is having none of this. "Ah, you've cleaned enough today," he scolds, playful. "Get your bum back on that couch, Mr—" He pauses. "I just realized I don't actually know your surname."

"Page." Jimmy dries his hands and returns to the couch.

"Jimmy Page," Robert says, testing it out in his mouth. "Well, Mr. Page, you certainly have a way with Carmen. Are you sure you haven't got kids of your own?"

"I'm fairly positive about that."

Robert joins Jimmy on the couch. The sofa suddenly seems infinitely smaller than it had just moments ago. Jimmy wonders if he should scoot away to give Robert more space, or if that will make him look like an asshole.

"What about a younger sibling?" Robert wonders.

Jimmy shakes his head. "I think the only reason Carmen's so fond of me is because I'm here to exterminate the ghost. If I were anyone else she wouldn't want me to stay over."

"Don't sell yourself short, Pagey. You've got magic powers."

Jimmy can't stop the way his mouth curves into a smile at the nickname. "Oh, you're right."

"How do you forget something like that?"

"The same way you forget that you can smell and see and hear and taste. It's just like your own five senses, just sort of... extended."

Robert looks thoughtful for a moment. "Could you... bring something or someone back to life? I mean, say one of your pets died. Would you be able to..." He doesn't finish that sentence, but he doesn't need to.

"It's possible, although I've never tried it. But breaching the order of life and death is frowned upon in our society. It's pretty much up there with murder on the list of things you shouldn't do."

"There are rules?"

"Not many, but yes. Magick isn't supposed to be used for evil purposes. There are practitioners of dark arts, of course, but the Grand Coven usually deals with them swiftly."

Robert's full of questions tonight. "Grand Coven?"

"They're the judge, jury, and executioners of our society. You don't break their rules, not unless you want to die."

"What are the rules?"

"Bring harm to none—this, of course, is strictly in a physical sense. It's not illegal to be a giant arsehole. Thou shall not kill, which kind of falls under the first heading. And what's dead stays dead. The Bible has ten commandments, but we sum it up in about three."

"Those are good rules to have. But what about witch hunters? Do they exist? If one came after you, would you be allowed to defend yourself?"

"That's never really come up before. And that might be a matter best left to the courts instead of the Grand Coven. But the driving purpose behind these rules—aside from general order—is to show that we aren't evil people. We don't use our powers for evil, and if we do, we're punished. Anyone who learns about the existence of our society sees that we don't harm people. But, of course, we're supposed to hide the fact that we exist at all." Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Because we're 'unnatural' or 'borne of the devil' or what have you."

Robert smirks. "Does that remind you of anything?"

"Stop being clever," Jimmy says, wanting so badly to reach over, grab two fistfuls of Robert's shirt and kiss his stupidly-cute mouth.

For a brief handful of seconds, Robert looks at Jimmy like he wants the same things, his gaze flicking between Jimmy's lips and eyes, but he stands up and the moment—if there even was one—is gone. "I'm gonna wash up. Do you need anything? I can bring you a change of clothes if you'd like. I think we're about the same size."

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Robert opens the hall closet and digs out two thick blankets. "Just make yourself comfortable. I won't be offended if you're already asleep when I'm done." Jimmy takes the blankets and makes up the couch. "And thank you so much for staying," Robert adds, like Jimmy's here against his will. "Carmen really appreciates it."

"And I'm sure her father does too," Jimmy teases.

Robert goes a little red and rubs the back of his neck. "Well, of course I do." He offers up an awkward, shy smile. "I'll be in the loo, then. If you need anything, just—well, come get me, I s'pose." He heads down the hallway and ducks into the master bedroom.

Jimmy unties his sneakers and slips out of them. He's a bit warm, so he takes off his sweater and drapes it over the top of the couch. He pulls the blankets, which smell faintly of marijuana, up to his chin, and drifts.


	4. Chapter 4

Through the crackling yellow tongues of fire, Jimmy sees the man. His skin is charred black, weeping blood and pus. He screams and flails despite having no tongue, his limbs rotted off long ago. The sockets where his eyes had once been stare straight through Jimmy. The smell of his destroyed, burnt flesh fills Jimmy's nostrils, and he feels bile rise in his throat.

Jimmy wakes with a start, his heart thumping madly behind his ribs. He'd forgotten about the nightmares, having grown accustomed to the tangle of dreamcatchers above his bed and the copious amounts of alcohol that lull him into dreamless sleep. It's daylight now, the dream fading into wisps, but he can still smell the man's burning flesh. Oh God, why can he still smell it?

Jimmy gracelessly rolls off the couch and dashes down the hall in search of the nearest bathroom. It's the first door on his left, and he stumbles inside, barely managing to get the door shut before the contents of his stomach end up in the toilet bowl. He spends a few moments sputtering the last flecks of bile into the bowl until he's certain he's finished. He wipes his mouth with a piece of tissue and flushes. If Robert can find him sexually desirable after hearing all of this, it'll be a miracle.

Jimmy slumps against the bowl, momentarily exhausted from the effort. Carmen's voice sounds from the other side of the door: "Jimmy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he croaks.

"You sure?"

"I am, really. Don't worry." Jimmy gets to his feet and digs through the medicine cabinet. He finds a half-empty bottle of mouthwash on the top shelf, twists open the lid. After a few swishes, his breath is minty-fresh, and he tries not to wonder what Robert's mouth might taste like. He closes the bottle and replaces it in the cabinet, spits and rinses the sink bowl.

When Jimmy steps out, Robert's peering at him from the kitchen. "You alright, Pagey?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jimmy says, dragging a hand through his messy hair. The smell hangs in the air, and Jimmy realizes why when he joins Robert in the kitchen. There's a pan of bacon sizzling on the stovetop. "Did I sleep through any supernatural activity in the night?"

"I don't think so," Robert says. He builds himself a plate of bacon and eggs, and turns his full attention to Jimmy. "Did the ghost make you sick? Or is that just part of your morning routine?"

"I had a nightmare."

"You have them, too?" Carmen asks. She's sitting at the table, pushing the food on her plate around with a fork. Strider is curled at her feet like he's waiting for her to toss down some bacon scraps.

"Yeah, even grown-ups have bad dreams sometimes."

"Was it a ghost or a monster?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "No."

"I s'pose you're not very hungry, then, are you?" Robert asks, poised by the stove as though waiting for Jimmy's response.

"Not for bacon," Jimmy says with a dark chuckle.

"Well, you're welcome to anything we've got," Robert says as he sits at the table.

Jimmy looks around the kitchen. There's a cluster of cereal boxes on the countertop near the refrigerator. "Carmen, may I have some of your Fruity Pebbles?"

"Sure, but I already took the toy out."

"That's alright." He pours himself a bowl, adds a generous splash of milk. He doesn't see a coffee-maker anywhere, so he'll have to go without his usual morning coffee. Probably for the best. He settles for a glass of water and sits in one of the empty chairs at the table. Strider pads over to him, curious, but eventually realizes Jimmy isn't eating anything interesting.

"What do you have bad dreams about?" Carmen asks.

"Don't ask him that," Robert scolds, gently, but he looks at Jimmy like he wants to know the answer, too.

Jimmy's not going to tell a seven-year-old he watched someone burn to death. "I saw something very scary when I was younger. I don't usually have bad dreams, though, because I have lots of good luck charms above my bed to keep the nightmares away."

"Can you make me one? I have bad dreams a lot about the ghost hurting my dad."

Robert's brow knits in worry.

"Of course. I won't let anything bad happen to either of you," Jimmy promises.

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to whip up one of those good luck charms for me, too," Robert says after a moment. "If it's not too much trouble. I'll pay you, of course."

"You don't have to do that, Robert. It's my pleasure."

* * *

On Monday, Charlotte comes into the shop looking rather worse for the wear. Her long, straight blonde hair is tangled and brittle, her blue eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. "What's wrong, love?" Jimmy asks as she approaches Jonesy's table of goods.

There's no one else in the shop beside the three of them, so she covers Jonesy's ears and says, "It's that fucking asshole Richard Cole." She only does this to shield him from her foul mouth, because she's endeared by how cute and innocent he is and 'doesn't want to corrupt him.' An unnecessary gesture, because Jonesy's exposed to plenty of expletives around Jimmy. "Ever since Peter brought him onto the Council, everything's gone to shit."

"What's he done now?"

Charlotte drops her hands away from either side of Jonesy's face. "You heard about Danny, right? Richard wasn't even _invited_ to that party, so how would he know what went on?"

"Are you suggesting Richard set this up somehow?"

Charlotte opens her mouth, closes it, looks around nervously. "I don't know. Maybe. But I was at that party, and I know Danny never went near that punch bowl. Because it wasn't punch—it was sangria. Danny doesn't drink."

Jimmy feels something crawl up his spine and chill his soul. He wouldn't put it past Richard to frame someone, but why? "What reason would he have to"—he struggles to find a suitable metaphor—"dispose of Danny?"

"Because he's an asshole!" Charlotte snaps, then realizes her mistake. "Sorry, honey," she says, sort of petting Jonesy's hair.

Jonesy looks confused by Charlotte's affection, like he usually does. "You know I'm only two years younger than Jim, right?"

"You just look so young!" Charlotte cradles his face in her hands, and Jonesy blushes. It's an off-day when Jonesy _doesn't_ blush, though. But maybe the proximity of her breasts to his face is one reason why his blood's pooling beneath his cheeks.

The enticing smells of banana bread and cinnamon catch her attention, and she looks at the spread of tasty treats on the table. "What've you got for me today, John?"

"Oh, well, there's my usual cinnamon bread, then I have this bourbon banana bread that's pretty good—"

"'Pretty good'?" Jimmy says, feigning offense. "It's _magnifique_."

Jonesy gives an affectionate eye-roll and continues his sales pitch. "And I have chocolate chip cookies, lemon bars, chocolate truffles, and coffee cake."

"That cake is to die for," Jimmy groans. He's had a few questionably erotic dreams about the glory of Jonesy's coffee cake.

"You die for your country, Jim. You don't die for a cake."

"I would."

Charlotte laughs. "You certainly know how to convince a girl to indulge. Alright, give me one of each."

The witches rarely need anything Jimmy sells; they only come in to strike up conversations with him and to buy Jonesy's breads. Jimmy earns fifteen percent of Jonesy's take in exchange for paying for the place, so it's a win-win. Most of his profit comes from tourists and locals who practice hoodoo but aren't gifted with magical powers like Jimmy.

"Jim, if Richard stops by, don't tell him I was here," Charlotte says after she's paid Jonesy. "I think he's planning something."

"Like what?"

She leans over the counter and lowers her voice. "I saw something... in his head." Charlotte's a telepath, though her ability to read minds isn't as neat and coherent as you'd imagine. She once described people's thoughts as a collage of images, memories, and sounds, and she has no way of knowing what's a memory and what's imagined.

"I thought you'd gotten used to all the sexual fantasies by now."

She scrunches up her face at him. "Jim, Richard Cole has never once been inside my house, so how does he know exactly what my bedroom looks like?"

Jimmy feels a jolt. "Do you have someone you can stay with?"

"Yeah, my parents. They have a place down in Delacroix. But I probably won't see you for a while." Charlotte kisses his cheek. "Be good."

"Write me if you can. I'll have Jonesy send you something _lagniappe_."

Charlotte smiles, though it doesn't reach her eyes, and blows him a kiss as she leaves.

* * *

It's been a few days since Jimmy's heard from or seen Robert, so he invites Jonesy for a drink after work. Jonesy's all smiles until they get inside the hazy, dim bar, and Robert spots Jimmy and waves him over. "Pagey!"

Jonesy gives Jimmy a skeptical side-eye. "He works here?"

"Yeah, probably for the last six months. How did you not know that?"

"I usually drink over at Napoleon House."

"Oh, you fancy motherfucker. C'mon." Jimmy pulls Jonesy in the direction of the bar where Robert's working. "We might score some free drinks."

Jimmy hops onto an empty barstool, and Jonesy sits beside him, looking glum. The man on the other side of Jimmy turns out to be Bonzo. "You again," he says, good-naturedly. Like they're old friends.

Robert greets Jimmy with that familiar, dimpled smile. "Pagey." It's a contented sigh of recognition, as though Jimmy is exactly the person Robert's wanted to see. He flicks his gaze to Jonesy. "Oh, you brought a mate! I know I've seen you before, but I can't recall your name."

"John."

"That's no good, I already know a John," Robert says, jerking his thumb at Bonzo.

"I call him Jonesy," Jimmy supplies.

"Well, Jonesy it is, then." Robert's effortless cordiality is his greatest weapon, and he wields it with care, striking deep in the hearts of everyone he meets. Even Jonesy seems affected by Robert's friendliness, though there's still traces of gloom in his expression. "What can I get for you, Jonesy?"

"Oh, um, I'll have a scotch."

"Wow," Jimmy laughs. He never saw Jonesy as a scotch kind of guy, but then again he hasn't really taken the time to get to know him outside of work.

"And you, Pagey?"

"Surprise me." He thinks he hears a groan from Jonesy, but he can't be certain.

"Ooh, fun!" Robert flits off to make their drinks.

Bonzo peers around Jimmy to get a look at Jonesy. "Never seen you around here before."

"Oh, yeah, I, uh, I work with Jimmy."

"Nice to meet another John." He reaches around Jimmy's back and shakes Jonesy's hand. "I'm Bonzo. But you can call me John if you want."

"So, how do you know Jimmy?"

"He came in about a week ago to see Robert." Something shifts in Jonesy's expression. "You a witch doctor, too?"

"Oh, no, no, I just—I just bake."

"Yeah, you're a just baker the same way Jimi Hendrix was just a guitar player," Jimmy says.

Jonesy's face loses its battle with the smile that spreads on his lips. "I've been told I make some good stuff."

"No shit? I oughta drop by sometime. Where do you work?"

"Golden Dawn on Royal."

Robert arrives with the drinks. He sets a cocktail glass in front of Jimmy that's filled with a reddish-orange liquid. "Well, this certainly is a surprise," Jimmy says.

Robert grins and sort of leans on the counter. "I thought you trusted me."

Jonesy kicks back a swallow of scotch, like he's not drunk enough to deal with this low-key flirting they're doing.

Jimmy takes a sip. He tastes hints of bourbon and lemon juice, with an even balance of bitter, sweet, and citrus tastes. "Not bad." He takes another drink. "How's the home?"

"I'm afraid if I talk about it, things'll start going bad again," Robert laughs.

"So things are good?"

"For now."

Bonzo clears his throat. "Plant, quit flirtin' and get me another beer."

Robert gives Bonzo a sassy look and takes away his empty beer mug. He pours a new mug and sets it down in front of Bonzo before tending to the other end of the bar.

"So, Bonzo," Jonesy says, "what business are you in?"

"I run a garage on St. Claude."

"You're a mechanic?"

"Yep, I can fix just about anything."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time my car decides to make my life difficult."

Bonzo snorts a laugh. "What do you have?"

"Just your average Beetle. A '66 model, I think."

"What about you, Jim?"

"'67 Impala."

"Damn, you ride in style," Bonzo chuckles.

"Yeah, I wanted a car that, if it pulled up to you at a light you'd lock your doors."

"That could be just about any car as long as you were drivin'."

"Ha-ha," Jimmy says. He's halfway finished with his drink by the time Robert comes back. "How's Carmen?"

"She's doing well. She wonders when you're coming 'round again," Robert says with a giggle.

"I'd hate to only drop by when you've got a problem."

"Oh yeah?" Robert does that thing where he blushes and rubs the back of his neck. "Well, maybe you could come over, y'know, even if we haven't got some ghost-related mishap for you to solve."

It's entirely possible that Robert is asking him out in an awkward sort of way. Jimmy isn't sure how to respond to that except to say, "Y—yeah, of course, I'd be happy to. You want me to bring dinner?" That sounds extremely date-like and might give the wrong impression. "I mean, y'know, so you don't have to cook."

"Pagey, you don't have to trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble. But if you wanna cook, you gotta let me help. It's only fair."

"I can't risk you burning the house down." Jimmy looks offended. "I know you wouldn't do it on purpose, of course. Don't look at me like that."

"Hey, Voodoo Child," Bonzo interjects. "You and your buddy wanna swap seats so I don't have to listen to you and Plant flirt all night?"

Jimmy feels heat prickle over his face. "Oh, um, sorry. Jonesy, do you want to swap?"

"If you don't mind," Jonesy says, both timid and sounding as though that's all he's ever wanted.

They exchange seats, and Robert glances at Bonzo. There's a small, almost invisible edge to his expression that Jimmy recognizes as guilt. "What's that look for?"

Robert shakes his head. "If you insist on bringing dinner, Carmen won't eat any fish except fried shrimp."

"And is her father a picky eater, too?" Jimmy feels a thrill building. Jonesy would be gagging right now if he wasn't engaged in conversation with Bonzo.

Robert grins. "What do you think?"

"I think," Jimmy starts, twirling his finger around the base of his glass, "you'll try anything once." It's easier for him to flirt with Robert now, like all it took was Bonzo acknowledging that's what they're doing here for him to find some advanced level of social competence.

"Well, I've only been here six months. There's a lot to try."

"So I'll surprise you, then." Jimmy finishes his drink and feels a warm flush beginning to build, that sense of shifting. "I s'pose Carmen will be happy to see me."

"Oh, she can't stop raving about you. 'Is Jimmy coming over today? Have you talked to Jimmy?'"

"Well, you'll have some good news for her tonight."

"If she asks you to sleep over, you don't—you don't have to say yes. She hasn't had a lot of friends over because of the ghost thing, so that's why she..."

"Robert, it's okay. I don't mind spending the night. It's not as if I've got anyone back home who'll wonder where I am."

Robert frowns. "No one? Not even a pet?"

"I didn't want to risk something happening to it." At Robert's quizzical expression, Jimmy elaborates. "I live right above the shop. So if someone were to, say, burn down my business, they'd also be burning down my home." The idea of losing a pet to something like that horrifies Jimmy. He might have a small phobia of fire, which is strange for someone who can start a blaze with the flick of his wrist.

"Any reason you seem to expect arson?"

"It's not uncommon. In my line of work, what I am..." Jimmy trails off with a shrug. "l'm not quite sure how we keep tumbling into depressing conversation, but it can't be a good sign."

Robert doesn't seem deterred. "I like our talks. I think it's good when you can talk about things like that with someone. Most friendships you just chat about the weather or football or inconsequential things. When you find someone you can open up to... it's worth holding on to."

"No Englishman I've ever met categorizes football under 'inconsequential things,'" Jimmy says with a smirk. "And in the time I've spent in the States I don't think Americans do either."

Robert's laugh is instant and lovely. "If I went on about my love for the Wolves, you'd probably have one foot out the door."

"I'd smile and nod. I'm not much of a sports person, sadly. They're more of a social thing."

"You're a bit of a hermit, aren't you?"

"I think only we're allowed to use that word," Jimmy says, grinning.

"Okay, socially-impaired, then."

"Well, the hermit isolates himself by choice to focus his attention inward on what goes on in his own mind. It's a sort of... meditative solitude."

"It's okay if you haven't got any friends, Pagey."

Jimmy chuckles. "Fuck off, I've got plenty of friends. Like Jonesy, for instance." He looks over at Jonesy, who's laughing at something Bonzo's said and paying zero attention to Jimmy.

Robert just gives him a flirty smile and flounces off to the other side of the bar.

Jimmy doesn't drink any more alcohol the rest of the night, just orders a glass of water every now and then so he doesn't look like a creep. He's been sitting here for at least an hour or two pumping his bladder full of liquid, so by the time he realizes he has to pee he doesn't think he'll be able to manage standing up and walking to the bathroom.

All the while, Jonesy has been focusing his attention on Bonzo, laughing at his jokes and occasionally touching his arm like he's fucking _flirting_ with this guy, but that's impossible because Jonesy doesn't like dudes, does he? Does Jonesy dig guys? That seems like something Jimmy ought to know by now.

Eventually, Jimmy's bladder forces him to abandon his barstool, and he rushes off to the bathroom. He isn't sure how long he's in there. Time seems to stand still, despite the fact that he can hear the muted thrum of the jukebox playing 'House of the Rising Sun' and, great, he's just going to associate that song with pissing for the next week or so.

The song isn't even over when he steps out of the bathroom, shaking water droplets off his hands because there's no goddamn paper towels, but Jonesy and Bonzo have disappeared, and Jimmy's fairly certain he didn't hear or see them enter the bathroom.

"How long was I in there?" Jimmy wonders aloud, dropping onto one of the many vacant barstools.

"Long enough for Jonesy to decide on going home with Bonzo," Robert says with a wink.

Jimmy's mouth drops open. No, this has to be a prank the three of them have orchestrated for... what? Making Jimmy feel stupid? Jimmy's gay; it's not like he'd be offended or disgusted by the idea of two guys together. But... Jonesy? Really?

Robert's laughing at him in a cute, harmless way, and actually reaches out and taps Jimmy's jaw shut. Jimmy feels momentarily reborn when Robert's fingers gently graze his chin. "Apparently, Jonesy will try anything once, too," Robert says.

"This is a joke, right? They're gonna come out from the back and be like, 'ha-ha, we got you, Jimmy, you're so stupid.'"

"'M afraid not. I saw them walk right out that door." Jimmy doesn't say anything, still stunned. "You didn't know? About Jonesy?"

"Obviously not." Jimmy studies Robert's face. "Did you?"

"No, but he's your mate. I thought you might've known."

"It's never really come up."

Robert grins. "Well, you'll certainly have something to talk about tomorrow, yeah?"

Oh Jesus. Jimmy hadn't even thought of that. He wonders if he's good enough friends with Jonesy to ask whether he was involved in a threesome. Maybe it's one of those 'if you have to ask, you're probably not' kind of things.

"What about you and Bonzo?"

"Oh, Bonzo tells me everything. I'm sure he'll relay all the juicy details."

Jimmy makes a face. "Really not the best word to use there. And that... wasn't exactly what I meant. I know you two had a... thing. And he seems like he's a bit jealous when you talk to me."

Robert nervously polishes an empty glass with the rag he's holding. "Well, y'see, eventually the threesome became more of a twosome. Pat got too pregnant to be bothered with it, and as long as I was keeping Bonzo satisfied..."

"So you and him..." Jimmy makes a vague hand gesture, and, yeah, even he's not sure what he's supposed to be indicating there.

"Just for fun," Robert says, like he thinks he's being judged for it. Like Jimmy's not picturing it in his head right now. "But I think he developed feelings for me, because one night he said something about wishing we could have this, the three of us. He was drunk, of course, but I think he really meant it."

"What'd you say?"

Robert shrugs simply. "I had to say no. I never was much good at sharing."

"Shit, I hope everything works out with Jonesy, then."

"I've never hooked a mate up before," Robert says with pride.

"Never? What did you even do as a teenager?"

A melancholic look flickers over Robert's face for a moment, then he says, "That's another story for another time, Pagey."

Jimmy nods in understanding and sets the money on the counter.

* * *

The next morning, Jonesy shows up to the shop wearing the most flamboyant pair of trousers Jimmy's ever seen on a human being who wasn't employed by the circus. Jimmy snorts a laugh into his coffee. "Nice trousers."

"You don't have to be rude, Jim."

"No, I'm serious. They really are nice. For a clown to wear."

Jonesy makes his prissy annoyed face and gets to work setting up his table.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm only teasing."

"I know," Jonesy says, but there's an edge to his voice that Jimmy's never heard before.

"Hey, just 'cause you got laid and I didn't doesn't mean you can't laugh at yourself."

Jonesy straightens up and stares at Jimmy. "What?"

There's a good chance Jimmy has horribly overstepped his boundaries here. Tread gently, fair James. "Which part of that sentence are you taking issue with?"

"Well, all of it, actually, but what do you mean you didn't get laid? I thought your little scam was working."

Now it's Jimmy's turn to look flabbergasted. "Scam? What're you talking about?"

"C'mon, Jim, I've never seen so many of your herbs and potions fail so consistently. It's all a con, right? To keep Robert coming back?"

Jimmy is almost offended Jonesy would think that, but on the surface what else could this situation possibly look like? Anyone with a pulse could tell Jimmy was instantly attracted to Robert, so how hard would it have been for him to enchant the herbs with some sort of nullification spell?

"No, that's not—" Jimmy rubs a hand over his mouth. "That's not what's going on. I'm not a hack."

"So your magick didn't work?"

"He says things are fine now, so..." Jimmy shrugs the end of that sentence into oblivion. "And, hey, what's this I hear about you sneaking off with Bonzo?"

Jonesy flushes red, busying himself with meticulously spreading out his plastic-wrapped brownies on the tray. "I didn't 'sneak off' with him. We're consenting adults; we didn't do anything wrong."

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. "So how was the threesome?"

He didn't think it was possible for Jonesy to blush harder, but there he goes. "What? Did Robert tell you that?"

"He might have said something about Bonzo's affinity for _ménage à trois_."

Jonesy burns with embarrassment, his fingers sliding up his neck to his face. "No, no, that's not—we didn't do that. It was just me and Bonzo..."

"And his wife's okay with him bringing home and screwing random guys?"

"Apparently so," Jonesy says. He's red enough to be mistaken for a lobster.

"Wow. Well, uh, I had no idea you were into guys."

"I know you didn't." Something about his tone bothers Jimmy. Is Jonesy pissed because he thinks Jimmy should have some sort of gay radar?

"If you'd worn those trousers sooner I might've figured it out."

Jonesy actually flips him off, which makes Jimmy laugh until his sides hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

As promised, Jimmy brings dinner over to Robert's house on Saturday evening. Carmen rushes him as soon as he comes through the door, crashing into him and throwing her arms around his waist. "Jimmy! You came!"

"Of course. I had to see you and your dad again, Sprout."

Carmen scrunches up her face. "Sprout?"

Jimmy ruffles her hair with his free hand. "Because you're a little Plant."

Carmen laughs, and Robert's approaching him and looking so fucking charmed it takes Jimmy's breath away for a moment. He gingerly plucks the bag of food from Jimmy's right hand. "Thank you. You didn't have to trouble yourself."

"No trouble at all."

Even Strider seems excited to see Jimmy, though he's probably picking up on Carmen's emotions more than exhibiting any genuine affection for Jimmy. Jimmy kneels to the dog's level and offers his hand. "Can I pet you?"

"Yeah, he won't hurt you," Carmen says, rubbing Strider's fur.

Jimmy scratches Strider behind the ears, and the dog wags his tail. "Who's a good boy?"

Strider grins as if saying, "I'm a good boy! It's me!"

"Did you have a dog when you were younger?" Robert asks while he's setting the table.

"No, but a close mate of mine did." Jimmy rises to help Robert, because he feels weird just screwing around while Robert's doing all the work. Robert shoos him away, though, so Jimmy turns his attention to Strider, who appears to have deemed this strange human as his new best friend. Strider tries to climb him, his front paws stretched over Jimmy's torso.

"I think he likes you," Carmen says.

Jimmy gives the dog a head rub. "I can't imagine why."

"Well, me and Daddy like you."

"Is that true, Robert?" Jimmy asks with a hint of flirtation.

Robert straightens up, tucks a curl of hair behind his ear and smiles. "You do have a certain charm—Strider, stop that! Jimmy is not a tree."

Jimmy laughs as the dog settles onto four paws. "Be glad he's only trying to climb me."

In the dining room, the table is set with silverware and brightly-colored dishes, and the air is filled with the smells of smoked boudin, red beans and rice, and stuffed crabs. At the table, Jimmy is seated beside Carmen—"I wanna sit with Jimmy!" she said, and neither of them were going to say no—and across from Robert, who gives him furtive, shy glances over their steaming plates of jambalaya. Maybe it's the wine, but Jimmy thinks he sees a hint of blush on Robert's cheeks.

"Jimmy, since you're a wizard, can you fly?" Carmen asks.

"No, not yet." He smiles.

"What else can you do?"

"I can light candles without using a match. I can make people and animals feel better when they get hurt. I can make special charms that help people."

Carmen's eyes light up. "Did you bring me a charm so I won't have bad dreams?"

"Of course," Jimmy says, patting his left pocket. "I didn't forget. I'll give it to you before you go to bed."

"Okay! Thank you, Jimmy!"

Robert's smiling at him in a way that makes it hard to breathe. "You're too good with kids to not have any experience."

"I used to babysit when I was a teenager. Mum recommended me to all the neighbors. 'Jimmy is so responsible!' So that's how I spent most of my weekends. Sometimes I'd take the kids to the park and end up healing their scraped knees. It was good practice for my magick, and, of course, the parents never believed it."

"You must have been very popular."

"In babysitting circles? Absolutely. Not so much with my peers, though. I was a bit of a square."

Robert snickers. "You? Really?"

"I was a teenage boy with zero interest in girls who spent most of his free time babysitting. What do you think?"

"I would've been your mate," Robert says, pridefully.

"Were you a square, too?"

"In a manner of speaking. I didn't have many friends when I was a teenager." Something about Robert's expression and tone tells Jimmy this is raw territory he's unwittingly stumbled across. Jimmy has the opportunity to just let this one fly right by, to not poke at what's obviously a sore topic for Robert. But, goddamn, Jimmy's curious, and they're all friends here.

"Why not?" Robert doesn't say anything to that. "Did you have some weird thing you were into that made you an outcast? Or a bad haircut? I'm a gay wizard, Robert. It's okay to have a weird thing or two."

Robert shakes his head, avoiding Jimmy's eyes, and pauses before he answers. "It was, um, family problems. And we lived in a small town, so..."

That raises a hell of a lot more questions than it answers, but Jimmy's not going to push this time. Obviously, Robert doesn't want to talk about it.

Jimmy struggles to find another topic, something that won't trip an emotional landmine. "Um, so did Bonzo say anything about what happened with Jonesy?" From one awkward subject to another.

Robert laughs, taking himself by surprise. "Oh, yeah, he, uh, he seemed rather satisfied, if you get my meaning."

Fuck, why did Jimmy raise the topic of his friend's sex life? "Loud and clear." He takes a long sip of wine. "So, the house is alright? Nothing strange happening?"

Robert looks around the room. "Everything's been normal so far. I'm sort of nervous that talking about it is gonna make the ghost come back."

"Don't worry, it doesn't work that way. You're safe." Though Jimmy isn't certain why the ghost stuck around for so long, but some spirits are stronger than others. Maybe this one needed a higher strength repellent.

"Then I suppose I should thank you again," Robert says, raising his glass in a toast. "You've certainly worked wonders for us."

Jimmy clinks his glass against Robert's own. "Happy to be of service, _mon cher_." He's never going to stop dropping casual French endearments into conversation as long as Robert gets all blushy and shy over them.

"Daddy," Carmen chimes in, "tell Jimmy what you made for him!"

"You made me something?" Jimmy asks, curious.

Robert stretches his neck around to one side, scratching the back of his head and doing his best to avoid eye contact. "I thought since you were bringing dinner that I'd make dessert. It's nothing fancy, and certainly not as eye-catching as what Jonesy makes, but I wanted to contribute."

"Well, that was nice of you."

"He made s'mores brownies!" Carmen says.

"Did you get to taste them?"

She nods enthusiastically. "They look kinda gross, but they're really good!" Robert sighs and buries his face in his hands. Jimmy just laughs.

After dinner, Robert brings out the dessert pan, and whatever's inside is a hot mess of chocolate, marshmallow goop, and graham crackers. The word of the day is 'ooze.'

Robert must sense the way Jimmy's staring at the brownies, because he says, "I told you they aren't much to look at."

"It's what's on the inside that counts," Jimmy says reassuringly, slicing himself a piece—more like a melty hunk, really—out of the pan. It tastes a hell of a lot better than it looks, though. Jimmy's actually impressed. "Wow."

"It's good?"

"Yeah, really good." Carmen seems to love it, judging by how she's devouring her piece. "I mean, if you can get a kid to eat it, you've done a pretty good job."

"It certainly helps that it's mostly all sugar," Robert says.

"Sometimes that doesn't matter," Jimmy says around a mouthful of chocolate. "I made these cookies once for some kids I babysat. Their mum was trying to get them to eat more fruits and vegetables, so I made sugar cookies with white icing, then I added some sugar-glazed fruit on top, like sliced peaches and blueberries and halved strawberries. The youngest absolutely refused to eat them, even when I took off the fruit because 'the fruit already touched it.'" He chuckles to himself.

"I thought you couldn't cook," Robert says.

"It was in one of their mum's recipe books. Why are you trying to poke holes in my story, Robert?" Jimmy loves teasing him, loves the way Robert gets flustered and pouty. It doesn't hurt that Carmen giggles, too.

There's about half a pan's worth of brownies left by the time they're finished, and Robert excuses himself to take Strider outside while Carmen washes up for the night. "Jimmy, will you put the dream charm on my bed when I get out?" Carmen asks, sticking her head out of the bathroom.

"You're not going to bed yet, are you?"

"No, but I don't want you to forget."

Jimmy smiles. "Alright, come get me when you're done." She disappears inside and shuts the door. Jimmy decides to clean up the kitchen while Robert's outside. He clears away the dishes from the table, drops them into the steaming hot water in the sink. While he scrubs and rinses, he thinks about why he's here, if Robert's using Carmen as a socially-acceptable excuse to invite Jimmy over for what would absolutely be a date under any other circumstance. At times, Robert certainly seems like he's flirting, like he wants this as much as Jimmy does, but, man, would it be the wrong move to just _assume_...

Robert's gone for about five minutes, and when he gets back inside he gently elbows Jimmy aside to get at the sink. "Pagey, I told you, you're a guest here. You don't need to do any cleaning up," he scolds and grabs the dishes out of Jimmy's soapy hands.

Jimmy decides it's best not to argue with him and surrenders dish duty.

When Carmen's finished, she calls for Jimmy, and Jimmy follows her down the hall into the bedroom on the left. It's small, decorated in bright, lively colors and pictures of animals. Jimmy takes the charm out of his pocket and loops the string around one of the posts jutting from the headboard. Carmen climbs onto the bed and examines the charm like a jeweler inspecting a diamond.

"It's s'posed to keep bad dreams away?"

Jimmy nods. "I enchanted it myself."

"Did you bring one for Daddy?"

Jimmy pats his right pocket. "Right here."

She slides off of the bed. "You should put it on his bed now so you don't forget, 'cause grown-ups forget stuff sometimes."

Jimmy decides to follow her across the hall into Robert's bedroom. It feels almost sacrilegious being in here without permission, with the fantasies he has almost daily about Robert. "Does your dad forget things?"

"He used to forget where he put stuff 'cause he couldn't find it."

"Used to?"

"Since the ghost went away, he doesn't forget stuff as much."

Jimmy nods, taking a look around the room. It smells like cigarettes and weed and some sort of aftershave or cologne. Robert's certainly got a, uh, interesting style of decorating. The bed is rather low to the ground, so there's no chance he's hiding much of anything under there. There's an orange shag rug at the foot of the bed, most likely intended for Strider to sleep on. Along the walls are various pictures and paintings, mostly depicting sprawling landscapes. The bed is tossed with colorful pillows and a floral-patterned quilt. The room is messy in a way that makes it look like someone actually lives here, with t-shirts and socks hanging out of the various bureau drawers.

Jimmy approaches the bed, careful, as though he's doing something wrong. He withdraws the second charm from his pocket and hangs it on the bedpost. "Now your dad won't have bad dreams either."

Robert's voice sounds from behind them. "What are we doing in here?" he asks, an indecipherable expression on his face as he stands in the doorway.

"Jimmy made us dream charms so we won't have bad dreams," Carmen chirps.

"Oh yeah? Jimmy's very thoughtful, isn't he?" Robert says it to Carmen, but he's looking at Jimmy. There's a kindness in his eyes and something else that sets the pace of Jimmy's heart a bit faster.

"Can he live with us so he can stay over every night?"

Jimmy laughs a breathy sound. "Aw, Sprout, that's very sweet of you. But I don't think there's any room for me here."

Carmen shrugs. "We could get a bigger house, right?" She looks desperately at Robert.

Robert looks momentarily frightened by the question. "We just moved here, luv. It's not always easy to get a different house. But I can ask Jimmy if he wants to stay tonight."

"You know I don't mind," Jimmy says.

They spend the rest of the evening watching a poorly dubbed Godzilla movie. Carmen's sort of sprawled over both Jimmy and Robert, the two of them shoved against opposite arms of the couch. Strider has given up finding a place on the couch, lying on the floor near their feet. "How come Godzilla has to destroy the city?" Carmen asks around a yawn, looking to Jimmy for an answer.

"Well, why do you think he does?" Jimmy asks in return, although not condescending. He wants her to question things, think for herself.

Carmen scrunches her face up. "'Cause he's the bad guy?"

Jimmy sort of nods. "But why? He's got to have a better reason than that. Every bad guy thinks he's a good guy."

"Maybe he thinks he's helping. He lives in the ocean. There's no buildings there."

"That's a good answer. Do you remember when they said where he came from?"

"He came out of the ocean 'cause of the radiation," she says in a way that implies she has no idea what that word means.

"So think about the movie from Godzilla's point of view. He's relaxing in the ocean, then all this radiation comes into his home and gives him all these strange new abilities."

"So he thinks the people are the bad guys?"

Jimmy smiles. "Yeah, you got it."

"How come you're so smart, Jimmy?"

That makes him laugh, and even Robert chuckles a bit. "Because I'm old," Jimmy says.

Carmen passes out before the movie's even over, slumped against Robert's shoulder, so Robert carefully picks her up and carries her down the hall to her room. Strider perks up and follows them. Jimmy lingers on the couch until Robert returns moments later.

"Care for a midnight snack?" Robert asks, moving toward the kitchen.

"What'd you have in mind?"

Jimmy hears the sucking pop of the refrigerator door opening. "Well, I can't help myself, that brownie was so good I'm gonna sneak another piece or two," Robert says. "And I thought maybe we could finish off that wine."

"Trying to get me drunk, huh?"

He hears the bells of Robert's laughter, feels something flutter and twist in his gut. Robert sets the bottle and two glasses on the table, then darts back into the kitchen. He brings over the brownie pan and some plastic silverware before plopping onto the couch beside Jimmy. They're much closer now, separated only by the square pan between them. Jimmy takes a moment to notice how goddamn tight Robert's jeans are, as though they're painted on to his skin.

"You don't think Carmen's going to be upset with us for eating this?" Jimmy asks as Robert greedily digs into the brownie.

"I made it, so I get to eat most of it," Robert argues with his mouth full. "And I s'pose we could save her a piece, then."

Jimmy really doubts that's going to happen, but he stabs his fork into the gooey mess anyway. "I feel like I'm cheating on Jonesy."

Robert snorts a laugh. "You don't eat sweets anywhere else? Not even the bread pudding at Acme Oyster?"

"Oh shit, don't even mention that, I'm hard just thinking about it." Yeah, _that's_ why. "But ordering something at a restaurant is different than having someone personally make something for you, y'know?" Jimmy takes a bite before he says anything else stupid.

Robert nods and hums contentment around another piece. "Hm, maybe we could finish this off and just make Carmen some pancakes in the morning." He licks a trail of marshmallow goop off the corner of his lips. "What do you usually have for breakfast?"

"Coffee."

Robert gives him a moment to continue that sentence. When Jimmy doesn't, Robert says, "Is that all? Don't you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day?"

"Well, tough shit, I don't feel like eating in the morning. And I don't really have much of a selection, since I don't have an icebox. No milk, no eggs, no meats." Goddamn, this brownie is amazing.

Robert shakes his head like he can't believe Jimmy lives in such poverty. "You could toast a muffin and put honey or peanut butter on it. Or make oatmeal. Or..." He chews his lower lip. "Okay, I can't think of anything else. But that's better than nothing, I think."

"Alright, I'll make an attempt to eat breakfast on a daily basis, if you insist."

"So, pancakes are okay?"

"Yeah, why would you think—" Jimmy pauses with the fork in his mouth as the realization crashes down on him: Robert doesn't want to dredge up whatever unpleasantness that caused Jimmy to puke the last time he was here. "Oh, no, no, that was... We're having a nice talk here, why ruin it?"

The corners of Robert's mouth twitch into a frown for a moment, but he doesn't push the subject. On some level, he understands why Jimmy flinches away from discussing this, which makes Jimmy wonder what Robert himself is hiding. But something is happening here, and neither one of them wants to disturb it.

"Do you ever get lonely, y'know, living by yourself?" Robert asks.

"I enjoy my alone time. I work with Jonesy eight-plus hours a day, and when I was in school I had a dormmate, so... I've come to really cherish my solitude."

"Is that why you're single?"

Jimmy wonders about that. "I haven't really been in a relationship since uni. I've gone on dates, gone to bed, but... nothing more than one or two nights' worth of sex or meaningless talk."

Robert glances away for a moment. "Do you think that's what we have? Not the sex, of course, but... meaningless talk?" He pours himself a generous glass of wine while he waits for Jimmy to respond.

"No, of course not. I mean, I can't really tell anyone I'm a wizard. I got lucky in that regard with my last relationship. He had special abilities, too, so I didn't have to hide that aspect of myself."

"You told him?"

"More like showed him. Not on purpose, but I was trying to develop my pyromancy, and he came in and saw me. I think his exact words were, 'You can do weird shit, too?' And then he had me use my powers to light up a couple joints."

Robert's face does this adorable thing where his nose scrunches up when he laughs. "What powers did he have?"

"Most of the same. We were just on different experience levels," Jimmy says, scooping up another brownie piece. "He spent most of his free time trying to learn guitar instead of practicing magick. He wanted to be the next Jimi Hendrix. I think he was gayer for Hendrix than he was for me."

"Good thing you both have the same name, yeah?"

"He did call having sex with me The Jimmy Page Experience. I s'pose that should have raised a few red flags."

Robert snickers. "So what happened?"

"He took me home to meet his parents." Jimmy can laugh about it now, but the whole experience was disheartening all around, because Jimmy couldn't even confide in the knowledge that, had their situations been reversed, his own parents would have reacted any better.

Robert frowns in understanding.

"It was Christmas holiday, and I couldn't afford to go home to see my folks, so he suggested I spend Christmas with him and his family. I knew it was a horrible idea, but for some stupid reason we thought we could pull it off without too much trouble. But obviously the 'my roommate doesn't have anywhere to go for Christmas' defense was pretty transparent; they knew what was going on. They actually kicked me out—or, they made _him_ kick me out." He laughs. Apparently tragedy plus time does equal comedy.

"Wow."

"It wasn't about me. I always knew that. When he came back to the dorm, he said, 'sorry I ruined your Christmas,' and I said, 'no way, I ruined yours.' I guess later he found some girl his parents approved of, because we broke things off after the school year was over." Jimmy shrugs and finishes off the brownie. "It wasn't a big deal for me."

Robert takes a long swallow of wine, and Jimmy watches the way his throat bobs. "Oh, Pagey," he sighs, looking at the empty pan between them. He picks it up and takes it into the kitchen. "It seems like sweets get you to open up a bit. I'll have to bake more sometime."

"Or you could just, y'know, ask questions," Jimmy teases, pouring himself a glass. He takes a drink, his nervous energy manifesting through his flipping through the television channels. He feels like they're on the cusp of a moment here, and the wrong move will send all their progress toppling down. He switches off the TV, bathing them in ambient silence and the ever-present hum of the A/C.

Jimmy has never wanted anyone this badly, not since he was sixteen and twisted up by hormones. But while that ended in a quick, underwhelming handjob in the coat closet at a party, this feeling, Jimmy thinks, won't go away if Robert brings him to orgasm. But then again, no one ever thinks it will.

Robert sits beside him, even closer now that there's no barrier between them. Jimmy wills his hands not to shake as he takes another gulp of wine. "So you've got a lot of experience with this kind of thing, yeah?" Robert asks, a nervous edge to his voice that wasn't there before.

"What thing?"

"Y'know, being with a bloke. I've never really—I've only been with Bonzo." He scratches the back of his head in a way that makes his curls bounce.

"Was that because he was a friend, or..." Jimmy isn't really sure what he's trying to say here.

Robert studies him for a moment, and Jimmy thinks about how fucking beautiful this guy is and how much his daughter adores him and how badly he wants to have this every day for the rest of his life and—

Robert kisses Jimmy's mouth, soft and hard all at once, and Jimmy feels his chest trembling at the hot slide of Robert's lips against his own, because, holy shit, this is happening, it's really happening. He doesn't know what to do except open his mouth and twist his hands in the front of Robert's shirt. Robert licks his way into Jimmy's mouth, the taste of wine heavy on his tongue. Jimmy has to remind himself to breathe as Robert's fingers drag wet prints across his cheek.

Then the kiss ends, and Robert's mouthing hotly over Jimmy's jaw, down the slope of his neck, his tongue tracing over the tattoo there. Jimmy hears himself groan, a purr of contentment in his chest, and his hands snake into Robert's wild hair. Everything he imagined pales in comparison to Robert actually kissing him. This, Jimmy thinks, is the reason he got that tattoo, so that one day an impossibly hot blond could suck kisses into his neck. He feels the scrape of teeth over the tender skin, then Robert's mouth finds his again, and Jimmy's hands roam restlessly through his hair, trying to crush him closer.

"Shit," Jimmy huffs, trying to get the words out around the nervous judder of his chest and the way Robert's kissing him. "I want—I want—"

"What do you want, baby?" Robert murmurs against his mouth before sucking at the corner of his lips. Fuck, that shouldn't turn Jimmy on so much, but Robert's voice is rough with want, like he needs this, too.

Jimmy breaks them apart, sort of breathing into Robert's slightly parted lips. He's hot and flushed and panting already, so admitting this probably won't ruin the mood they've got going here. "I've wanted to suck your cock since the moment I met you."

Robert grins and laughs a breathy, airy sound. "Pagey, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Fuck off," Jimmy laughs. He lets a hand drop from Robert's hair to his shoulder, feeling soft, worn cotton over warm skin.

Robert turns his head and finishes off his glass of wine. "Is that blowjob still on the table?"

"Not if you have to get drunk for it."

"No reason to let good wine go to waste."

Jimmy considers that for a moment before drinking his own, then Robert's up and tugging him down the hall. Jimmy shuts the bedroom door and latches their mouths together, his hands frantic over Robert's body, like he's trying to touch as much of him as possible in case Robert changes his mind. He wraps his hands around Robert's perfect ass and squeezes. Robert makes a pornographic noise of want and drops back onto the bed.

Jimmy's given plenty of head, sucked so much cock he could be certified as an expert, but Robert isn't just some one-night curiosity. He kneels at Robert's feet, slides in between his open thighs and undresses him delicately, like he might break. His hands undo the belt buckle, unbuttoning and unzipping until Robert is hard and hot in his fist. Jimmy opens his mouth and takes him in with absolute certainty that this will be the best blowjob Robert's ever had.

Robert huffs out a whining little breath and squirms over the bed. Jimmy takes every little shift and tilt of his hips with ease, his mouth working around the hilt of Robert's cock. He moans, and Robert feels it everywhere, gasping and jerking his hips into Jimmy's mouth. His hands come up and clutch Jimmy's hair, and Robert ought to know to tug and not to pull, but somehow his fierce grip just arouses Jimmy further.

"Pagey," Robert shakes out, and Jimmy traces his tongue down the length of Robert's dick, chasing the bulging vein there. Robert makes a noise that falls apart in his throat, because Jimmy's tonguing his balls and sucking him and moaning around his dick, and it's too much at once. He can feel that Robert's close, so he slides up to the swollen head, his lips working smooth and slow. He wants to know what Robert tastes like, and Robert's more than happy to show him as he shakes apart on Jimmy's tongue.

Jimmy groans, his mouth full of jizz and cock, Robert's fingers still knotted in his hair as he comes hot and wet down Jimmy's throat. "You taste so good," Jimmy rasps through pearly lips. Robert whines like that makes him want to orgasm again. Jimmy wishes he would, because he doesn't want this to end. Making Robert come is fucking amazing, but Jimmy's a bit frightened of what will happen now that it's over, if the blissful haze clouding his brain has begun to clear and he sees this as a catastrophic mistake.

Robert exhales a sigh and sort of melts into the bed. Jimmy lets him slip free, breathes hot against Robert's thigh as he palms his own erection through his jeans. Robert's fingers tug at Jimmy's hair. "Pagey, c'mere," he murmurs. Jimmy raises his head to look at him. "Let me get you off."

Jimmy's not going to argue with that. He climbs up the bed and settles next to Robert, his heart and dick throbbing. Robert reaches out and plucks open the button of his jeans, eases his hand inside and finds Jimmy there. Robert's fingers wrap around his cock, and Jimmy sighs, bites back a moan building in his throat. He watches the slow slide of Robert's hand, watches the pre-cum leaking from the flushed head of his cock. Robert's watching, too, his lips slightly parted while his hand works, like Jimmy's not the only one getting off on this.

Robert touches him like he's something sacred, and Jimmy praises him with soft sighs curled around his name. He comes in one long stretch of tension, shooting hot and wet over Robert's fist. Jimmy forgets how to breathe for a moment, his heart hammering against his ribs as Robert lazily strokes his softening cock.

"Do you still wanna stay?" Robert asks, the pad of his thumb circling gently over the head of Jimmy's dick.

Jimmy huffs amusement into the space between them. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Robert grins and leans in to nibble on Jimmy's neck. "'S good, 'cause I really dig you."

"Yeah?"

"It's gotta be a good sign that Carmen likes you."

"Well, she doesn't know me as 'dad's boyfriend.' I'm just the guy who made the ghost go away." Jimmy hears himself make a noise as the tip of Robert's tongue traces over his tattoo. Robert's fist sort of squeezes Jimmy's cock, and he moans, rolling his hips. "Fuck, Robert..."

Robert draws his hand away, but not without one last tease of thumb over the head. "Mm, as much as I love hearing you do that, I ought to wash up before I get too tired." Jimmy watches him roll away and slide off the bed. "Go ahead and get comfortable. I'll be out in just a tic."

Robert and his glorious ass disappear into the bathroom. Jimmy eases out of his jeans, discards them somewhere on the orange shag rug. He hears the shower spurting to life, and he thinks about Robert standing naked under the spray. His dick tightens painfully, unprepared for another erection so soon after the last.

The bed is softer than he imagined when he finally crawls inside. Jimmy's eyelids slip closed to the faint patter of the shower and the scent of Robert's shampoo on the pillowcase.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Jimmy notices when he wakes up is the cold. Robert's bed is a warm, cozy nook, and throwing back the blankets invites the chilly air to bite at Jimmy's skin. Gooseflesh prickles over his bare legs, and he hurriedly steps into his jeans and shoes.

The second thing he notices is the way Robert's got all the curtains and blinds open in the house. Carmen and Robert are seated at the table and snugly wrapped in thick sweaters. Robert looks up as Jimmy pads into the kitchen. "Oh, Pagey, here, let me fetch you something warmer." He's up and rummaging through the coat closet before Jimmy can protest. "I don't know why it got so cold in here all of a sudden."

 _Yeah, you do,_ Jimmy wants to say. Robert hands him an ugly brown sweater, and Jimmy pulls it over his head. It smells like mothballs and stale cigarette smoke. "Thanks," he murmurs. Robert flashes him a quick smile before heading over to the stove.

"Luckily, it seems like the lights are the only thing that isn't working, so I was able to make breakfast." Robert serves up a plate of pancakes for Jimmy. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course." Jimmy takes the plate and sits in the open seat at the table. Carmen smiles at him, but it's a bit strained, like he's some creepy stranger her father wants her to be polite to. Jimmy smiles back and experiences a shameful pang of regret. Something has changed here, and he can't help but blame himself.

Robert rejoins them at the table, and they fall into silence. Jimmy can't understand why the spirit has reappeared, why it chose now to make its return. There's got to be something he's missing, if he could just stop worrying long enough to think about it.

Strider trots up to Jimmy and sniffs him, curious. Then he barks, which, wow, that dog is loud as hell when he's right next to you, and Jimmy hasn't heard him make any noise until now.

"Strider, hush. Don't bark at Jimmy," Robert scolds.

Jimmy feels a chill against his face and hands. He briefly considers the possibility of the dog being possessed before dismissing the notion. If demonic possession were the culprit, simple rituals to banish evil spirits wouldn't have kept a demon away.

Strider ignores his master's command and barks at Jimmy again. He doesn't seem agitated, so Jimmy offers the dog his hand. Strider sniffs it, deems him acceptable, and Jimmy scratches him behind the ears. He concentrates, focuses intently on the thought, and projects. Strider quiets down mid-bark, much to the surprise of Robert and Carmen.

"Did you make him do that?" Robert asks.

Jimmy nods. "I did."

"How?"

"It's possible for a witch or wizard to sort of... throw a thought into the head of another. A form of momentary mind-control. I've only ever tried it with animals, because it's rather frowned upon to do that with a person. Too much potential to use it for evil."

Strider walks away from the table and climbs onto the couch, nestles into a comfortable position.

"Do you have to touch him to do it?" Robert wonders.

Jimmy drizzles a modest amount of syrup over his pancakes. "It's easier if you do, but I don't have to. I honed my skills on my mum's cat. The bloody thing would never listen to me when I said, 'come here.'"

"So you can talk to animals, too? Is there anything you can't do, Pagey?"

"He can't make the ghost go away," Carmen grouses under her breath but loud enough for them to hear.

"Don't," Robert chides. "That isn't fair. I'm sure he's trying his best."

Yet it's still not good enough, Jimmy thinks. If he hadn't dedicated his life to practicing magick, this little hiccup wouldn't bother him so much. But magick is the only thing Jimmy can do with a decent amount of competency—some even consider him the best—so any fuck-ups are unacceptable.

Carmen just pouts and eats her breakfast in the most sullen way possible.

Jimmy doesn't know what went wrong, why his magick isn't strong enough to obliterate this spirit. The only thing he can think of is that the spirit has grown so powerful Jimmy's magick is tantamount to bug spray: a temporary solution, but eventually its effectiveness fades and the bugs return, now with a resilience to the poison.

So what could cause a spirit to have such power? Rage, most definitely. But Jimmy can't imagine how sweet, optimistic Robert could have angered someone this much. Robert's the type to apologize profusely and genuinely for any wrongdoing; how could somebody loathe him like this, enough to make his and his family's lives miserable for years?

Then it's got to be something else. The longer a spirit stays in this world, the stronger it becomes. It's possible that it gained its strength through simply going unchecked for this long. Basic techniques, it seems, won't be enough to dispose of this spirit.

Robert's voice breaks him from his reverie. "What are you thinking about?" Jimmy looks up from his plate to see Robert gazing at him with a loving expression.

"Just... trying to figure out what went wrong. This has never happened before."

"Hmm, now where have I heard _that_ one?" Robert teases, his mouth quirked in just the right way, and Jimmy has to quell the sudden urge to kiss him.

"Certainly not from me. Until, y'know, just now." Smooth. Jimmy's embarrassed for himself. Why is he allowed to talk?

Robert chuckles. "Maybe we've just got to burn sage or powders or clean the house with some special wash every week to keep the ghost at bay. That doesn't sound like too big a deal, really. Just another chore, like doing laundry or going to the market."

But Jimmy knows it shouldn't have to work that way. There's got to be a straight-forward way to get rid of this thing for good.

Carmen pushes her now-empty plate away from her. "Daddy, can I go to Uncle Bonzo's?"

"You're there almost every day, luv," Robert says. "Auntie Pat has a new baby on the way. Don't you think she needs time to rest?"

Carmen squirms and makes a pouty face. "But I always help her with stuff, and she says I'm a good helper!"

"Carmen," Jimmy says, "maybe your dad wants to spend time with you, too."

Carmen glares at Jimmy, which he was not expecting. "You were s'posed to make the ghost go away! You were s'posed to make it better, but you didn't!" She storms off, running down the hall and into her room before either of them can stop her.

Robert heaves a weary sigh. "'M sorry, I don't know why she's... She adored you when you made it go away."

Jimmy can't help but wonder if Robert feels the same way, if he's going to decide Jimmy isn't worth the trouble. "I'll fix this," he says, and he means it. "I'll make it go away for good." He makes a mental note to look into the history of the house, see if there's any leads there.

Robert decides to let Carmen stew for a bit and finishes his breakfast. Jimmy isn't sure he should poke at the semi-comfortable silence they've got going here, so he doesn't. When Robert's done, he excuses himself to go talk to Carmen. Jimmy tries to eavesdrop, because, hey, he's curious, but the room's too far away to hear anything but the soft murmurs of voices. He focuses on finishing the food in front of him, suddenly no longer hungry but committed to the task anyway.

He wonders briefly if he is losing his powers, if all this is just a slow descent into waking up one morning with nothing but his memories and a distant longing for what once was. What then would he do with his life, armed only with a business degree? Could he be happy without his abilities? It would be nice, he thinks, not to worry about the Grand Coven anymore, but that peace of mind probably wouldn't be worth the loss of what makes him unique.

Robert returns a few moments later, looking as though he's absorbed some of Jimmy's internal stress. He offers up a pained smile and cards a hand through Jimmy's hair. Jimmy knows when he's not wanted. "I should probably go, yeah?"

Robert ponders that sadly for a moment, then seems to accept it. "That's probably best... For her, I mean."

Jimmy feels his breath catch in his throat. "Alright, yeah, I understand." He pushes away from the table and stands up. One step towards the door has him crashing to the ground, then Robert's there at his side, righting him. If Robert had been one second quicker, he might have prevented Jimmy from faceplanting onto the floor. "Goddammit," Jimmy whimpers.

From the couch, Strider raises his head and watches Jimmy.

"Pagey, are you okay?" Robert's tender hands are on Jimmy's face, examining him for open wounds.

The ghost tied his goddamn shoelaces together. Like it's Bugs Bunny fucking with Elmer Fudd. This could easily be how Robert lost his tooth, because of this asshole spirit. Jimmy pushes himself into a sitting position and tears at his sneakers.

Robert gasps. "Did Carmen do that?"

Jimmy shakes his head, furiously untying and knotting the frayed laces. "No, she couldn't have." Was this what Strider had been trying to warn him about?

"It was the ghost?"

This is not fair, goddammit. It's bad enough his magick has failed and he's being politely kicked out of his almost-boyfriend's house, but now this? Oh, fuck this ghost. This son of a bitch is gonna pay.

Jimmy stands up and stalks to the door. "Pagey," Robert says. Jimmy stops his stride, because it's not fair to take his anger out on Robert. Robert is the bright spot here, the one shining Christmas light on a string of dead bulbs.

Robert closes the distance between them and covers Jimmy's mouth with his own. His hands settle on Jimmy's hips, and he ends up nudging Jimmy against the front door. Jimmy gasps, awed that Robert still wants anything to do with him after this catastrophe. Robert's kiss is soft and sweet, his lips faintly sticky with syrup, and Jimmy licks at the corners of his mouth. He feels the gentle squeeze of hands on his hips, a small reassurance that whatever happened here this morning was not the end.

"I'll ring you," Robert says, the words a hot promise over Jimmy's lips, "when Carmen's come around to your camp again. Shouldn't take too long. Kids are fickle, y'know."

Jimmy nods absently, running his tongue over his lower lip to savor the last of Robert's kisses.

"Don't worry, Pagey. She'll be fine."

"I know," Jimmy says. Robert's hands fall away from his waist, and Jimmy feels the void where his palms had been, where his fingers had pressed against his back. "I'll see you soon, then?"

Robert nods and steals another kiss, a quick press of mouth that leaves Jimmy wanting so much more.

* * *

Peter Grant strolls into the shop the next morning while Jimmy's still working on his first cup of coffee. They acknowledge each other with terse head nods and formal greetings. "Page."

"Grant."

Jonesy, while usually shy and withdrawn, is dead silent, like he knows exactly how powerful Grant is and wants nothing to do with him.

Grant approaches the counter, and Jimmy resists the human urge to back away from him. Peter Grant is six feet tall and weighs about three-hundred pounds, his thick, hairy arms protruding from the rolled sleeves of his shirt like tree trunks. His breath smells of tobacco and hard liquor as he leans forward. "It's been a while."

Jimmy nods. "That it has." He isn't sure what Grant's game plan is here, but he knows it's nothing good.

"I'm looking for someone," Grant says. "Maybe you can help me. She's about this tall"—he raises a hand to shoulder-height—"blonde hair, wears all sorts of flowy gowns and shit. Name's Charlotte."

Jimmy bites his lips together. "No, I haven't seen her in a while." It's not a lie, really. The last time he saw Charlotte was when she came into the shop last week. And if Charlotte's premonitions are correct, Jimmy has no business telling Grant her whereabouts.

"Strange, it's almost as if she's dropped off the face of the earth." Grant taps a sausage-like finger on the wooden countertop. "You wouldn't happen to know where, would you?"

"Can't say that I do." Ahh, the beauty of double meanings. "I don't really pry into peoples' personal lives. I'm a solitary man."

Grant furrows his thick brow. "People—these girls—they tell you things because they like you. And you're either too stupid or too queer to notice it. You sure she didn't say where she was going, maybe in hopes that you'd show up?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "She came in and bought some of Jonesy's goods, like always, flirted with me a bit, and then left. Maybe she went on vacation." That should throw Grant in the wrong direction if he decides to interpret that as a clue.

"A vacation in February?"

"Maybe an early Valentine's getaway with someone special? Shit, I don't know."

Grant smirks wickedly. "Always such a smart-ass, aren't you, Page?"

"I don't really know how to be anything else."

"Except maybe a pain in my ass."

"Why do you keep bringing up arses, Peter? Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Jimmy hears Jonesy huff a quiet sound of laughter.

"Actually, there is." Grant leans in closer. "Watch yourself. Cole is just looking for a reason to bring you in front of the Grand Coven. Don't stick your neck out if you don't have to." With that, Grant turns and lumbers out the door.

"I always love our little talks," Jimmy says after the bell jingles and the door has shut behind him.

Jonesy chuckles, mindlessly rearranging the tower of individually-wrapped brownies on his table. "How are you not afraid of him?"

"Because I haven't done anything wrong." Jimmy takes a long drink of coffee. "Do you ever wish you had magical abilities?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm content with what I have."

"Said no one ever."

"No, I'm serious. Your world seems very... stressful. I'm happy doing what I love."

"That is way too well-adjusted for me."

Jonesy does that shy smile thing, glances at the door for a moment. "Hey, Jim, would you want to get a drink with me tonight at Napoleon House?"

The invitation catches Jimmy off-guard. "Oh, um, no thanks, I'm not really in the mood to go out tonight. Thank you, though."

"Well, we could go to my place—for drinks, I mean. Or yours, if you'd rather not go out at all." Jonesy does that nervous hair-tucking thing.

"I was trying to find a polite way to say I don't feel like being around anyone, but..." Jimmy sighs, shrugs. He's not going to tell Jonesy that he's really waiting for Robert to call at some point tonight.

"Oh." Jonesy blinks. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just need my alone time."

Jonesy looks oddly curious, like he thinks that might be code for masturbation time or something sleazy that Jimmy absolutely didn't intend.

"Why don't you ask Bonzo?" Jimmy suggests.

"I s'pose I could do that." Jonesy gets all blushy, and Jimmy's got no idea what that's about. He must really like that guy. Jimmy can't see why, but, hey, different strokes and all.

* * *

Robert drops by the store on Wednesday afternoon before his shift at the bar. He doesn't look happy to be here, though, and Jimmy's heart lurches into his throat at the sight of Robert's melancholic expression.

"Hey, Pagey, can I have a word with you?" He glances at Jonesy. "Hi, Jonesy, right?"

Jonesy looks pleased that Robert remembered. "Yeah."

"Y—yeah, sure." Whatever Robert has to say, it's probably not good news. Jimmy leads him into the back room of the shop where this whole debacle began. He closes the door and just sort of stands dumbly in place. "So, how are things?"

Robert glances away momentarily, pushes a hand through the back of his curls. "It's not getting better. Maybe we shouldn't—maybe we shouldn't see each other."

Jimmy feels that one like a punch in the gut. "What?"

"I just—I can't stop thinking about how everything was well and good until we... well, y'know, you were there. It feels like a sign, like maybe this isn't something we should be doing." To his credit, Robert doesn't look like he's enjoying this, but that only frustrates Jimmy more. Because if Robert doesn't want to stop what they're doing, why is he suggesting it?

Jimmy sighs, but he knows it could be worse. It was probably a mistake to go to bed so quickly. He gets it. "Okay, okay, that's—let's just be friends, then. Just that."

A pained look crosses Robert's face, and Jimmy realizes in horror that he's read this all wrong. "Pagey, no, I—I don't think that's a good idea."

"I think it is," Jimmy protests, although it rings like a plea in his own ears. But they're good together. They understand each other and make each other laugh. "I think we could really have something here. Is this because of Carmen? She'll get over it in time." Even so, Jimmy knows if Carmen isn't comfortable with the arrangement, it's not like Robert's going to give _her_ the boot.

Robert's shaking his head, his magnificent curls swaying. "It's not that, it's just... Maureen thought her consorting with the djinn brought this sort of evil spirits and whatnot into our home."

"But she was wrong, right? Because she's not there but the spirit still is."

"When she left, things did improve a bit," Robert admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "So I think, being with you in any capacity—friends, lovers, what-have-you—would be... harmful for my daughter."

Jimmy feels his throat tighten and breathes a shaky breath through his nose. "It's because of what I am, then?" It's not like this is the first time he's been rejected because of something he can't change.

Robert winces, but he doesn't deny it. "I think maybe, being what you are, your energy draws spirits. And I can't afford that, not with Carmen. She doesn't even want to be in the house, Pagey. That's why she's always over at Bonzo's."

"I understand," Jimmy says, struggling to keep his voice even. He tries to take solace in the fact that this isn't a rejection, because Robert evidently still cares for him, but it doesn't ease the ache in his chest. "Do you want some sage to burn? Maybe if you banish the spirit again, and if—if I'm not there, it won't come back."

Robert smiles sadly. "Yeah, thanks."

Jimmy opens the door and leads him out. He hands Robert a bundle of sage and watches him leave with one last longing look at the perfect architecture of his body. It feels like watching helplessly as your house goes up in flames.

Robert glances over his shoulder and offers up a smile. "Goodbye, Pagey."

"Bye, Robert." The bell jingles as he leaves, and it's the saddest goddamn sound in the world.

Jimmy's vaguely aware of Jonesy looking at him, like he's conscious of the entire world that just imploded in his midst. "Everything okay, Jim?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Jimmy says, and, yeah, he's not fooling anybody. He thought there couldn't be anything worse than helpless, one-sided pining, but there absolutely is. What's worse is getting a tiny taste of something mutual and warm and good, only to be told that it was all a mistake, that even being friends is an impossibility.

Jimmy hasn't felt this heartbroken in a long time.

The rest of the evening drags on, and while Jonesy's packing up to leave for the night, Jimmy says, "Hey, um, so how about that drink?"

Jonesy looks stunned to even be asked. "You really want—Okay, sure! Um, actually, I'm the one who doesn't want to go out this time, so would you want to meet at my place?"

"That's fine."

"Alright, great." Jonesy's smiling now, and Jimmy feels a twinge of happiness himself. It doesn't take much to make Jonesy happy, it seems. "You remember where I live, right?"

Jimmy nods with patience. "I've been there before."

"Right, of course." Jonesy's gone red again; Jimmy's got to start ranking his blushing in stages. "Well, okay, I'll, uh, I'll see you tonight, then." He nearly stumbles on his way out the door, and Jimmy can't help but chuckle to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

"I didn't actually expect you to show up," Jonesy says when Jimmy arrives. "You don't usually want to hang out after work."

"Yeah, well, change is always good." Jimmy steps in and looks around. Jonesy's house may not look like much on the outside, but inside it's a cozy little cottage that looks like something out of a Christmas card. There are spacious wooden bookshelves lined along the walls, expensive-looking scenic paintings, thick floor rugs, and inviting furniture. All that's missing is a fire crackling in the fireplace.

Jonesy pads into the tiny kitchen and pours Jimmy a glass. "You're a Jack and Coke guy, right?"

"Yeah." Jimmy's beyond wondering how Jonesy knows that. Jonesy hands Jimmy the glass, and Jimmy takes a long drink. "Thanks."

"Thank _you_ for actually stopping by."

"All else fails, you could've invited Bonzo."

"Well, he's busy tonight, so, no." Jonesy laughs a giddy sound full of shaky energy. "And I wanted you to come. You seem like you need a drink or two." He pours himself a drink—the same as Jimmy's—and says, "I guess whatever Robert had to say wasn't exactly good news." He doesn't meet Jimmy's gaze as he speaks, as though he fears he may awaken something through eye contact.

Jimmy shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about Robert."

"Oh—okay." A small smile twitches at the corners of Jonesy's mouth. "No problem." He leads Jimmy to a small leather loveseat, and they sit together.

Jonesy's already set out coasters on the coffee table, so Jimmy takes advantage of one. There's a handful of Good Housekeeping magazines there as well; Jimmy's tempted to pick one up and leaf through it, but he's here to be sociable and talk to Jonesy. Instead, he takes another drink, hoping the alcohol will do its part and make this conversation so much less awkward. "So, what do you do? I mean, when you're not baking?"

"I read a lot, as you can probably tell," Jonesy chuckles, doing that hair-tucking thing he's prone to doing. "Mostly non-fiction. I feel like I'm wasting my time if I'm not learning something, y'know?"

"Yeah."

Jonesy sets his glass down and turns so he's fully facing Jimmy, his legs tucked underneath him. "What about you, Jim? What do you do for fun?"

"I, uh, I listen to records. Read. Watch movies."

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"Mostly, uh, foreign films. Italian horror and things like that. I'm into really"—he searches for the word—"avant-garde stuff."

"Everybody has a weird thing they're into."

"I think being a wizard counts as my one weird thing."

"I don't think it's that weird. I think it's kinda neat."

Jimmy smirks. "I thought you didn't want magick powers."

"I don't," Jonesy says with a sly smile, "but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate others' gifts."

Jimmy takes another drink. All he can think about is how he should be with Robert right now, sharing cordial conversation. It isn't fair; Jimmy just wanted one nice thing for himself. What hurts the most is how Robert seemed to want it, too.

"So, what's going on with you and Bonzo?" Jimmy asks, because Jonesy probably wants to talk about him, considering the ridiculous shade of red he turns when Bonzo's name comes into conversation.

Jonesy goes pink and fights the smile that spreads on his lips anyway. "Oh, well, we're, um... It's mostly a casual thing, I guess. He hasn't really brought up the topic of getting serious."

"Do you like him?"

Jonesy shoots him a coy glance. "Since when are you so interested in the people I date?"

"Just making conversation," Jimmy mutters, wondering if he's overstepped some sort of boundary.

"And that's the best you've got? C'mon, Jim, you're smart. Surely you can come up with something better to talk about."

"Most people like talking about themselves—or people they're interested in." Jimmy swirls the remainder of his drink in his glass. "Why don't you suggest something, then?"

"Why do you think Richard and Peter want to find Charlotte?"

That was not the turn Jimmy expected this conversation to take. "Not for anything good, I'm sure."

"Maybe they know she's suspicious of them. Do you think they would hurt her just for the idea, or is she able to prove they framed that guy?"

Admittedly, Jimmy hasn't given this much thought. He's had his own problems to deal with. "Cole's hot-headed enough to want someone's head just for cutting him off in traffic, but Grant is more strategic. If Grant's involved in this"—Jimmy really wishes he had a better word for this—"witch hunt, odds are Charlotte's able to prove Danny didn't do anything wrong."

Jonesy takes another drink. "Why would they do that? Frame Danny, I mean."

Jimmy shrugs. "Lots of reasons. He could've seen something he shouldn't have. Or maybe they just didn't like him. Or... somebody on their team committed the crime, and they made Danny the scapegoat."

"Are you gonna look into it?"

"I like being alive, thank you very much."

"But if someone's going after you guys, you could be next."

That's a very sobering thought. Jimmy stares into the liquid in his glass. "I s'pose it doesn't matter if I haven't done anything wrong." He finishes his drink, sets the glass on the coaster. "Cole and Grant aren't the only members of the Grand Coven, but they hold a lot of power. It would take some pretty damning evidence to convict them."

"So how would you find evidence?"

Jimmy considers that for a moment. "Charlotte mentioned that Cole knew exactly what her bedroom looks like. She's never invited him inside before, so he must have broken in while she was out."

"For what? Do you think he took something?"

"No, but maybe... he _left_ something. It's possible he left a hex bag somewhere in Charlotte's apartment." Jimmy feels a cold gust. "If she didn't find it..."

Jonesy's eyes widen. "You think she's in trouble?"

"We have to find the bag and burn it," Jimmy says, getting up from the couch. "C'mon, I'll drive."

"Me?" Jonesy sputters. "You really want me to come?"

"Yeah, you can play look-out if breaking and entering isn't your cup of tea."

* * *

Jimmy finds Charlotte's apartment without any trouble. The last time he was here was Charlotte's New Year's Eve party. The building is a two-story structure painted a pastel yellow. Charlotte lives on the ground floor. There are two windows on either side of the front door, but Jimmy doesn't want to resort to trying to get in through them unless absolutely necessary. There are no lights, save for the glow of the apartment in the upper right.

"Are you sure about this?" Jonesy whispers. "We could get in a lot of trouble."

Jimmy scoffs. "I've got it covered, trust me. Just play look-out." He reaches into his wallet and takes out his credit card. He jams the card into the door crack. It takes him a minute or two to find the right spot to push the lock back. He opens the door and steps inside.

Colors. Plenty of happy colors and psychedelic splashes, like looking at a peacock while having an acid trip. The décor is a bohemian shabby-chic, each piece most likely bought at a flea market. The curtains look like they're made out of patterned sun dresses. Colorful throw pillows cover the couch, and the walls are accented with vivid artwork. There's an aquamarine rug in the shape of a flower beneath the coffee table. Jimmy runs his gaze over the living room.

"Have you broken into places before?" Jonesy asks, breaking the silence. Then: "Wait, I don't wanna know."

"I used to date someone who had rather _interesting_ friends," Jimmy says by way of explanation.

Jonesy looks around, choosing not to poke at that. "So what are we looking for?"

"A hex bag." It's a charm composed of a mixture of herbs, talismans, and other supernatural ingredients placed in a piece of cloth and bound with leather. "It would probably have something personal from her, most likely made from a piece of her clothing."

"Wouldn't she have noticed that?"

"Probably," Jimmy says, moving for the bedroom, because that's the room Richard Cole supposedly saw. "But she may have so many clothes she didn't notice, or didn't think to look for a hex bag."

The bed is small and dressed with more throw pillows. A colorful string of lights hangs over the bed in a sort of canopy shape. The wallpaper is a vintage flower pattern. On the right side of the bed is a small vanity cluttered with makeup bottles and tubes. On the left is the closet. Near the vanity is a wooden chair with a few articles of clothing strewn over the top. Jimmy checks them for missing patches. None.

He looks through the closet. The clothes are neatly arranged, jeans and cardigans folded on shelves, shoes lined up like tiny soldiers. Jimmy leafs through the dresses and blouses on hangers, inspecting them for any signs of tampering. "Jonesy, a hand?"

Jonesy helps him look, because the closet is pretty full. "This feels weird," he says quietly. "Like a personal violation."

"If there's a hex bag in here, it could be harming her even now. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if it means helping her."

"I just wanted it noted for the record."

"Duly noted."

The closet bears no clues or "eureka!" moments. Jimmy takes to searching through the drawers of the vanity and the faded white wood bureau. Jonesy's looking underneath furniture, in the nook between the headboard and the wall.

"Jim, don't you think Cole would have hidden it?" Jonesy asks. "I mean, he wouldn't put it someplace where Charlotte could have found it."

"I know, I know," Jimmy grumbles, raking a hand through his hair. This is driving him a bit mad. He thinks about Charlotte's harried appearance the last time he saw her, the panicked look in her eyes, and he understands. He sits on the edge of the bed and tries to think.

"If I were a hex bag, where would I be?" Jonesy wonders aloud, dropping down and peering underneath the bed.

"Someplace Charlotte wouldn't look," Jimmy says without really thinking. Now what kind of place might that be? Jimmy hasn't the faintest clue, so he tries to list off places that rules out. So no drawers or cabinets. Hiding it underneath furniture would be too obvious as well. He doubts Cole was able to hide the thing in the floor or walls. An idea flashes in his head. "Jonesy, check in the loo. On the back of the toilet tank."

Jonesy darts into the bathroom. After a minute, he returns shaking his head. "It's not there."

"Damn." Jimmy hadn't really expected it to be, but still. Worth a shot. He looks at the room with different eyes, imagining where he might hide a hex bag. Somewhere innocuous, somewhere you wouldn't think to look. On a hunch, Jimmy lifts up the mattress. In between the mattress and the box spring lies a small flower-patterned satchet. "Bingo."

"You found it?" Jimmy snatches up the hex bag and eases the mattress down. Jonesy comes to his side to examine it. "But we never found what it was made out of..."

"It's possible she threw out a blouse or something and Cole salvaged it. Which opens up a lot of disturbing possibilities."

Jonesy makes a face. "So we burn it, right? And that'll break the spell?"

Jimmy nods and takes the bag into the kitchen. He finds a box of matches, sets the bag in the sink, and lights it. Flames crawl across the bag in bright blue tongues. Jonesy watches, entranced, while Jimmy says, "Make sure it burns. I'm gonna look for a way to get in touch with her."

He returns to the bedroom, looking for something new now. He searches through dresser drawers and shoeboxes under the bed for an address book, any sort of clue as to where she might be. Charlotte said she'd be staying with her parents in Delacroix, but it would be nice to have a phone number or an address. He finds more makeup and perfumes in one box, photographs in another. One box has a bunch of receipts, but nothing recent or otherwise helpful.

But Charlotte knew Cole and maybe Grant were after her, so it makes sense she wouldn't have left anything behind they could use to find her. Maybe Jimmy has to do this the hard way. He pulls the picture box from underneath the bed again and thumbs through the photographs. Charlotte's last name is Martin, and, since she was never married it stands to reason Martin is also her parents' surname. If he can find a first name for her mother or father, it would help tremendously in narrowing down who to call in the phone book.

Charlotte doesn't call her parents by their first names, though, which is evident as Jimmy flips through Polaroids with notes on the back reading, "Mom and Dad, 1966," and "Mom and me at Disney World, 1970."

Jimmy's unaware of how much time has passed until Jonesy comes into the bedroom and says, "It's burned."

Jimmy puts the pictures back into the box. He checks his watch and realizes they've spent an hour in this apartment. "I need a drink." He doubts Charlotte has anything beyond fruity wines.

"We can go back to my place," Jonesy suggests, then: "If you want. For drinks, I mean. I didn't mean that to sound so... Well, you know how it sounds."

"You're as red as a fire truck, Jonesy. Take a breath."

Ten minutes later, they're in Jimmy's car on the way to Jonesy's house, and Jimmy impatiently taps his fingers on the steering wheel. "Do you have a phone book at your place?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I know it's sort of late, but I thought I'd try to find where Charlotte's staying. I know a last name and a city... It's a common name though, so it might take a while to weed through—"

"Jim, why don't you wait until morning?"

"I can't just sit around doing nothing."

"You found the hex bag and burned it," Jonesy points out. "That's not nothing. That might have saved Charlotte."

If Charlotte's still alive, she'll still be alive by the time he locates her parents. If she's not, well, nothing he does will help anyway. So what's Jimmy after here?

He knows he's pushing this because of what happened with Robert, for two reasons. One, he needs a distraction, something to keep his mind from replaying their 'break-up' and ruminating over what could have been. Two, he couldn't help Robert, but maybe he can help Charlotte. Nonsense, but there you have it.

"You're right," Jimmy says around a calming sigh.

By his third drink back at Jonesy's place, Jimmy starts to feel a warm flush in his veins. He's comfortable enough to stretch out his legs, sinking into the couch as though made to fit there. Jonesy is matching him drink for drink, and Jimmy isn't sure how the little guy's keeping up with him.

"Don't look so glum, Jim," Jonesy says, patting Jimmy's back. "You did a good thing tonight."

"Yeah? Then why do I feel so shitty?"

"Probably the alcohol. 'S a depressant, y'know." Jonesy plucks the half-empty glass out of Jimmy's hand and sets it on the coffee table. Given the slur in his voice, Jimmy's surprised Jonesy's capable of that much coordination.

"You're drunk."

"Just drunk enough." Jonesy smiles and looks at Jimmy. "I know you didn't wanna talk about Robert—"

Jimmy feels the stab of pain. "But you're gonna soldier on anyway."

" _But_ for what it's worth, you shouldn't be with anyone who's gonna make you feel like this."

"Yeah, whatever..." Jimmy eyes his glass and thinks about reaching for it.

"Look, Jim, I like you a lot, okay? Do with that what you will, but I would never do anything to hurt you."

That sobers Jimmy up pretty quickly. "What?"

"If you had any idea how hard it was for me to say that, you'd never ask me to repeat it."

"No, I heard you, I just... Really?" How the hell did Jimmy miss this? Somewhere amidst Jonesy's blushing, free food, and nervous gestures lay a massive crush, and Jimmy's been so stupidly oblivious he hadn't even known.

Jonesy tucks a piece of hair behind his ear and glances away, like he's been caught doing something wrong. "I know you're in no position to return my feelings, just... please don't hate me for having them, okay?"

"Hey, c'mon, you heard my embarrassing rant to Lori. I'm flattered. I'm just kinda feeling like an arse for never noticing."

"I thought it was so obvious," Jonesy says, still not looking at him.

Jimmy places a hand atop Jonesy's own. "Hey, I don't hate you. How much of an arsehole would I be to hate you for something like that?" After all the kind things Jonesy's done for him, Jimmy thinks the poor guy ought to get something in return. Probably not the best idea Jimmy's ever had, but he's drunk and would very much like to forget about Robert right now, and Jonesy is willing and sweet, and maybe the solution to Jimmy's problem has been here this whole time.

Jimmy captures Jonesy's mouth underneath his own, and Jonesy responds immediately, opening his lips and granting Jimmy entry. He's a sloppy kisser, his tongue slipping in and out, but Jimmy isn't on his A-game either tonight, so he doesn't mind. His hands find their way under Jonesy's shirt, fingers skimming over booze-warmed skin, and Jonesy moans a small sound into Jimmy's mouth.

Jonesy reaches up and gets his hands full of Jimmy's hair while Jimmy skims over the planes of his back. Jimmy is lost in the haze of booze and arousal dancing through his bloodstream, so when Jonesy drops a hand to Jimmy's thigh, he doesn't shy away from it.

"Jim," Jonesy breathes over Jimmy's mouth when they separate, "I wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?"

Jonesy's hand is still lingering at his thigh, dangerously close to his cock, and every molecule in Jimmy's body demands release, so Jimmy answers that by nudging his hips into Jonesy's hand. Jonesy kisses him again, appreciative and enthusiastic, before sucking at the tattoo on his neck, and Jimmy's not thinking about how Robert kissed him much the same way.

 _Robert_ , Jimmy thinks. _Robert, Robert, Robert._

But Robert can't be with him. Jonesy is sweet and loving and kind-hearted, and maybe Jimmy doesn't love him now, but he could if he opens his heart to the possibility instead of saving it for someone who's already left him. Jonesy would be good for him, would be good _to_ him. And isn't that what matters most?

Jimmy's expecting Jonesy to reach down and jerk him off, but instead he kneels between Jimmy's spread legs and opens the button of his jeans, his mouth pressing kisses over the exposed skin. Jimmy sighs and drops his head back against the couch, trembling under the hot fog of breath. He feels Jonesy's mouth curve into a smile under his navel. "Another tattoo?"

"Oh... Yeah." There's a small design of elegant calligraphy that reads 'ZoSo' just beneath Jimmy's bellybutton. Jonesy traces the letters with his tongue, kisses them as though they're something sacred.

"I like it." Jonesy tugs down Jimmy's jeans just enough to bring his cock out, and Jimmy's already hard and leaking pre-cum at the head. Jonesy wraps a hand around him and swallows him down, and Jimmy can't help but push his hips forward.

He tries to lose himself in the wet heat of Jonesy's mouth, but there's something so wrong about this, like it's a strange, twisted dream he's having. Jimmy screws his eyes shut and focuses. Jonesy hums around his cock, his tongue gliding along the length, and Jimmy isn't thinking about Robert, about how Robert touched him that night, about how he groaned and whimpered under Jimmy's expert mouth, how he tugged at Jimmy's hair, how he tasted when he came. Jimmy isn't thinking about how his cock might feel in Robert's mouth, the way Robert might use his tongue to drive him crazy, how he would have bent Jimmy over the bed and fucked him heavy and hot and graceless.

Jimmy's orgasm surprises him, and he comes with a shout. Jonesy doesn't jerk away like Jimmy's expecting, just noisily sucks and slurps, and Jimmy trembles through it all as the air around them loses its charge. He slides out of Jonesy's mouth with a sad, guilty plop and wonders how soon he can leave.

Jonesy must be wondering the same thing, because he pulls away and murmurs, "It's getting late... Maybe you should go."

Jimmy's glad he's being given an out here, but he's not entirely sure what he did to warrant this kind of shift. "You sure? What's wrong?"

Jonesy shakes his head and gets to his feet. "Nothing. But we probably shouldn't have done this."

Jimmy still can't figure out why Jonesy's changed his mind, but, hey, at least he doesn't have to navigate the painful postmortem that inevitably follows regrettable sex. "I blame the alcohol," he says, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A small chuckle escapes Jonesy's lips. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"It's just—you're my boss, y'know, and I don't want—"

Jimmy stands up and puts his fingers to Jonesy's mouth. "Shh. It's fine. Don't worry about it." Maybe Jonesy understands, on some subconscious level, that Jimmy was never his to touch, that he could never reach him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jonesy nods and gives him a tight smile, opens the front door for him. He looks a sad mix of hurt and embarrassed, and it doesn't seem fair that this is what he gets in return for the unconditional love he's given Jimmy.

Damage done, there's nothing left for Jimmy to say but, "I'm sorry," as he leaves, and Jonesy doesn't ask why, because he already knows. They both used each other, drunk enough not to care about the inevitable complications, but sober enough to know the reasons why.

Jimmy drives home and feels the sharp pricks in his chest, the jagged edges of all the things still broken inside of him.


	8. Chapter 8

Jimmy wakes up the next morning groggy and nauseous. The light hits his eyes like needles, so he showers in the dark. He's overslept, which means he'll have to wait until tonight to track down Charlotte and make sure she's alright.

Jonesy is already setting up shop when Jimmy gets downstairs. They flash each other awkward half-smiles, both hoping the other won't acknowledge last night's events, but Jimmy's fairly certain Jonesy won't bring it up. Throughout the day, they take turns offering up conversational gambits which inevitably taper off into embarrassed silence.

The day drags on, and Jimmy's still feeling hungover and old when the sun sets and the shop closes. He spends the rest of the evening with a bottle of whisky and the phone book, searching for Charlotte's parents. Eventually, he hits pay dirt.

"Is Charlotte there?" he asks, trying to keep the drunkeness out of his voice.

"That depends who's calling."

"It's Jimmy."

Mrs. Martin's voice brightens considerably. "Oh, Jimmy! Charlotte told me you might call! How are you, dear?"

"'M fine," he lies. Apparently, Charlotte has spoken very well of Jimmy. "How's she doing?"

"She's sleeping right now. Poor dear's had it rough the last few days, but she seems to be feeling better today."

Jimmy sighs in relief. "Thank God." So the hex bag was the crux of Charlotte's problems. "Well, I don't want to disturb her. I was just checking in to make sure everything was alright. Would you mind giving her a message when she wakes up?"

"Of course."

"Um, tell her she was right, and that I found the bag. She'll know what it means."

"I'll do that. You have a good night, Jimmy."

"You too, Mrs. Martin."

Jimmy hangs up and takes a long swallow of whisky. He briefly considers the idea of calling Robert, but he doesn't have Robert's number, and even if he managed to find it in the phone book, does he really want to be the guy who drunkenly calls up an ex-lover and begs them to take him back? He's already made enough mistakes with Jonesy.

At some point, Jimmy dozes off and is awakened by the shrill ring of the phone. He gropes blindly for the receiver. "Where y'at?"

"Jimmy? Oh no, did I wake you?" It's Charlotte, and Jimmy's stricken by how badly he needed to hear her voice and how disappointed he is that it isn't Robert.

"No, you're fine, _cher_. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm getting better," she says, and he can hear a tinge of exhaustion in her voice, as though recovering from the flu. "Mom said you found the bag?"

Jimmy rubs his eyes and sits up. "Yeah, it was under your mattress. That's probably why you saw Cole's memory of your bedroom."

"Shit, I can't believe I ran off without looking for a hex bag. I'm so stupid."

"No, you're not. You were scared. You're a beautiful girl, and Cole's a creepy, sadistic motherfucker. If I were in your position, my first thought wouldn't be 'maybe he's gonna hex me.'"

There's a short silence, then Charlotte says, "Thank you, Jimmy."

"Don't worry about it," he says, feeling guilty, like he's perpetuating some kind of fraud by accepting her gratitude. Because he'd been too wrapped up obsessing about Robert to give her situation the proper attention. If Robert hadn't broken up with him, Charlotte probably wouldn't be talking to Jimmy now.

"What're we gonna do about this?"

"I don't know," Jimmy sighs, helpless. "Grant came by looking for you, too, so this goes deeper than just one guy with a grudge. I doubt the police will be any help. All they can do is issue a protective order, and we both know that won't keep Cole and Grant away. I'll figure something out, okay? Just stay safe. If I could find you, odds are they will, too."

Charlotte inhales a sharp breath. "Yeah, I know. I'll call you?"

"Please. I'll feel a lot better if I know you're safe."

There must be an edge in his voice, because Charlotte asks, "Is everything alright with you?"

"'M fine. Just drunk."

She exhales a soft laugh. "Any particular reason why?"

Jimmy smirks at the abject worthlessness of the question. As if he could even begin to explain. "It feels good."

"Take care of yourself, Jimmy, okay?"

"I'll do my best."

* * *

 

It takes a week for Robert to come back, and he looks about as bad as Jimmy feels, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, his sunny smile nowhere to be found. Upon seeing Robert, there's a tightness in Jimmy's throat, every organ in his body contracting at the sight of him. Robert's presence here is impossible to process, and Jimmy's brain runs through the possibilities of what this might mean.

Jonesy throws Jimmy a curious look, and maybe there's a bit of jealousy there, but Robert doesn't seem like he's here to get back together with Jimmy, so Jonesy can take a bit of solace in that. Something must have happened with the ghost.

Robert tries a smile as he approaches the counter, but it's weak and doesn't reach his eyes. "Pagey... Can I talk to you?"

"Y—yeah, of course." He leads Robert into the back room where most of their pivotal encounters have taken place. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Robert sighs a shaky breath and drops into a nearby chair, hugging himself like he's cold. "I shouldn't have sent you away. I was wrong about you making things worse."

"Did something happen to Carmen?" Jimmy asks, because that's the only reason why Robert would come back for his help.

"She's starting acting out in school," Robert says, wringing his hands, "so that she'll get in trouble and be held after class. She doesn't want to go home because the ghost is there. Do you have any idea how that looks?"

 _Oh, fuck_. "Like you're abusing her."

Robert sniffles and wipes his eyes. "Maureen called me the other day. She told me CPS paid her a visit and asked questions about me."

Jesus Christ. Jimmy kneels at Robert's feet and takes his shaking hands in his own.

"Carmen would never lie about something like this," Robert says, seeming to respond to Jimmy's affection. "But no matter what she says, it looks like she's hiding something, y'know? No one's gonna believe there's actually a ghost in our house. They just think she's making up some outlandish story because she's embarrassed..."

Jimmy shakes his head. "I know you, Robert. You wouldn't—"

"It doesn't matter. I can't lose her, too."

That sentence is a loaded gun, and Jimmy wonders what it might mean but knows this isn't the time to go traipsing through the dark underbelly of Robert's psyche. "You know I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Robert nods and risks a glance at Jimmy. "I'm sorry about all this."

"Don't be. It's not your fault—"

"I mean for driving you away. I shouldn't have—I thought it was best for Carmen. But I never stopped..." Robert chooses not to finish that sentence, but Jimmy can think of how it might have ended.

"It's okay. We'll figure this out together." Jimmy's not going to push for Robert's affection here, not when he's so twisted up with fear and distress.

"Thank you, Pagey." Robert considers him for a moment, as though he's going to say something more to close the immeasurable distance between them, but he catches himself and offers Jimmy a warm smile instead. "I should get to work," he says, standing up, his hands sliding from Jimmy's own.

"W—wait," Jimmy sputters, his voice tripping over the threshold of the word. He rises to his feet. "Should I meet you at the bar later, or would your place be more convenient? I've got a lot of questions for you."

"You live upstairs, right? Maybe I'll just drop by after my shift," Robert says shyly, like he thinks Jimmy might be holding their break-up against him.

"What about Carmen?"

"She's staying with Maureen for a while," Robert admits with dismay. "They certainly don't mind the new arrangement."

"I'll make this right. I promise."

Robert's smile is sweet this time. "Thank you," he says again, and Jimmy watches the perfect shape of his ass as he walks out the door.

* * *

 

As promised, Robert drops by the shop that night after his shift at the bar. Jimmy is more than happy to let him inside and lead him up the stairs to his humble abode. "Care for a drink?" Jimmy asks.

"What're you offering?"

"Well, there's Jack and Coke, and, uh, Jack."

Robert snickers. "No thanks. If you're gonna be asking me questions I ought to keep my wits about me."

"You don't mind if I drink, do you?" Jimmy teases, knowing Robert's answer. He pours himself two fingers' worth of Jack Daniel's and swallows it down. Robert is trying to figure out whether it's acceptable to sit on the bed. "Go ahead and get comfortable."

Robert smooths out the comforter and sits down gingerly, as though the bed frame might collapse beneath his weight.

"So I've been thinking," Jimmy starts, pacing the floor. "If the ghost couldn't be banished through uncrossing and jinx-breaking spells, that has to mean it isn't bound by the rules of a curse."

"I didn't know there were rules."

"When a spirit is directed to haunt someone—through a curse or a spell—it's bound by that curse. So, logically, when the curse is broken, the spirit leaves. We tried plenty of uncrossing spells, which didn't work."

"So I wasn't cursed, then."

"Right." Jimmy pours another shot of whisky. "Which means this spirit is haunting you of its own will. It never occurred to me because you're—well, you're _you_."

"Meaning?"

"I can't imagine how someone could dislike you so much they'd dedicate an eternity to haunting you. But that's got to be what's going on. Can you think of anyone who might have disliked you that passed away? Some crotchety old neighbor from Kidderminster, maybe?"

Robert jolts like he's been hit with a cattle prod. Jimmy keeps eyes on him, as though that might coax an answer out of him. "No," Robert murmurs, shaking his head. "No one."

"Are you absolutely sure about that? This all started back in England, right? So there had to be someone there that set this whole thing in motion. I know it's hard to believe, but someone had to hate you or feel wronged by you, enough that they'd spend this long terrorizing you and your daughter."

Robert looks away, drawing into himself. "No, there's no way..."

"Robert, c'mon. I can move things with my mind. Anything is possible here."

Robert takes a deep breath and bends at the waist, his head buried in his hands. "No, she couldn't..."

"What are you thinking?" Jimmy asks, sitting beside him to offer the comfort of his presence. "Talk to me."

"I had a sister. Allison. She was a few years younger than me, so she always followed me around and looked up to me. When I was fourteen, I was mates with a bunch of blokes from my school, and some nights we'd sneak off into the woods near where one of them lived and play torch tag."

"Torch tag?"

"It's tag but in the dark. Whoever's it has a torch, and he has to call the name of the person he sees with it to tag them."

Jimmy nods, urging him to continue.

Robert's voice is small and far away. "Anyway, one night I went to sneak out, but Allison caught me. She wanted to come along and play with us, or else she'd tell my parents I was sneaking out at night."

Jimmy nods again, because he can't speak. He feels a tremor in his chest. He knows where this is going and hopes like hell for a happy ending, but Robert would not be telling him this story if it ended happily.

"So I let her come with me, even though I shouldn't. The woods were dark at night and it was hard to find people there, and you could trip over tree limbs or get poison oak. But I didn't want to get in trouble, and I figured one of us would find her and she'd be okay. We were rowdy teenaged boys, and we liked to spook each other in the dark by jumping out and scaring each other, which would make us scream and give away our positions. It was just harmless fun..." Robert trails off, his voice going somber, and Jimmy fears he's lost him.

"Anyway, we all went off to hide. I found a nice spot inside a tree trunk. I could see a beam of light searching the woods where I was, but they were coming from the opposite direction, so they couldn't spot me. I could hear their footsteps crunching leaves and twigs. I held my breath and watched the torch light disappear deeper into the woods. I felt pretty confident that I wouldn't be found, so when my mate Gary came up behind me and tagged me, he scared the piss outta me. I hadn't seen him turn around and come back the other way, but maybe there was another group of kids playing torch tag in the woods, too.

"We kept playing for a while, and I didn't see another light in the woods. So I figured they had gone home, or maybe I'd just gone mad and it had really been Gary after all. But after about an hour, we couldn't find Allison. No one had seen her since the game started." Robert's breathing grows shallow and quick. Jimmy holds his breath. _This couldn't be. Please, this just couldn't be._ "We went through the woods and shouted her name, tried to get her to come out. We all thought she was hiding someplace, playing a joke on us, y'know? She liked to play jokes on me and get me scared. So I didn't think..." Robert's face, lost in the memory, goes slack.

Jimmy's shaking his head in disbelief, as though denial will prevent this story from reaching its inevitable end.

"We couldn't find her," Robert says, his voice trembling. "We were all scared because if we had to get someone to help us, we'd get in trouble for being out so late in the woods. It was bad enough that we snuck out while our folks were asleep. And if my parents found out that I'd lost Allison... But Gary lived nearby, so we ran to his house and knocked 'til his folks answered. His dad went into the woods with a torch and looked, shouted for her and threatened to tell her parents if she didn't come out. People from the other houses on the street went into the woods and looked, too, but they didn't find anything."

Tears flow freely down Robert's cheeks now, and Jimmy can see the small convulsions of his shoulders as he cries. "Her body was found two days later in a river on the other side of the woods. Her injuries weren't—" He cuts off, shakes his head. "There was no way she died because she got lost and froze or starved to death. Someone did those things to her. Someone who was out there with us that night." Robert takes another deep breath and looks at Jimmy with watery eyes. "I've never told anyone about this, not even Maureen."

Jimmy doesn't even realize he's crying until he blinks and a tear rolls down his cheek. He takes Robert's hands in his own, trying to siphon his pain.

"I always blamed myself for what happened to Allison," Robert says. "I wonder if she does, too."

"There was no way you could have known..."

"I was her big brother. I was s'posed to protect her." Robert sniffles and wipes his eyes again. "Do you think she could be the spirit?"

Jimmy isn't sure, but this is the best lead they've had. "How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go and they can't move on. They stay for years, disembodied and scared, and over time that can drive them mad. Sometimes they get violent."

"But she was only ten years old."

"Spirits can be a lot like wounded animals. They're in pain, so they lash out. There's something that keeps them bound to our realm. Remains or unfinished business. Allison might feel wronged because you escaped and she didn't. Maybe she feels like you failed to protect her. She may even be feeding off your own guilt."

Robert goes eerily silent and stares at nothing in particular for a while. Then he asks, "If it's her, how do we stop her?"

"Well, either we invoke her spirit and curse someone else, which the Grand Coven would frown upon, or we destroy whatever's binding her soul to this world." Jimmy sighs. "There's no easy way to ask this. Where is Allison buried?"

Robert shakes his head. "Our family couldn't afford a burial."

Cremation equals no remains to burn. Unless... "What about something like a hairbrush? Or a collection of her baby teeth? Those might be enough to keep her soul tied to this world."

Robert's eyes widen. "There's a doll... Carmen's doll. It used to be Allison's, and she'd take the hair from her brush and braid it into the doll's. Do you think—"

"Where's the doll now?"

"I think Carmen left it at the house."

Jimmy stands up and heads for the door. "Let's go."


	9. Chapter 9

They take Robert's truck home. Jimmy's never been inside Robert's house when Carmen isn't there, and it's oddly empty without her. Strider snoozes in the backyard while Robert retreats to Carmen's bedroom to fetch the doll. Jimmy loiters in the family room, feeling like an intruder, because whether he's still welcome here is somewhat of a question mark. Robert never actually said they should get back together, just that he needed Jimmy's help banishing this spirit. It seems crude to ask about their relationship status at a time like this, though.

Robert emerges with the doll, cradling it fondly. "Carmen won't miss it?" Jimmy asks.

Robert shakes his head. "You know how kids are." Maybe Carmen won't miss the doll, but Robert certainly will, if the way he's gazing tearfully at it is anything to go by. This doll is most likely the only link Robert has to his sister. Of course he'd be reluctant to give it up, let alone burn the thing.

"Your mum and dad must have something left of her," Jimmy says softly, a subtle suggestion.

Tears have formed in Robert's eyes, trickling down his cheeks. "They blame me, y'know. For what happened to her. If I hadn't gone out that night, if I hadn't taken her with me... I don't think my parents ever really healed. Mum always wanted a girl, and I wasn't the kind of son my father envisioned having. So when Allison died, I'm sure they wished it had been me instead."

Jimmy hears himself gasp. "Robert, no, that's not—"

Robert shakes his head, cutting off Jimmy's protestations. "My father kicked me out when I was sixteen. I was a trouble-maker, but instead of trying to help me they just abandoned me. Maureen was the one who... She lived in another town, so she didn't know about what happened. And I didn't tell her. I liked her, she liked me, and I didn't want her to look at me differently."

Jesus Christ, Robert's life is a train-wreck. "It's been years," Jimmy tries. "Do you think maybe they might have... mellowed a bit? Do they even know you got married and had a daughter?"

Robert doesn't answer, so Jimmy's taking that as a no.

Well, fuck. There's no way he can live with himself after destroying the doll now. Jimmy paces the floor, desperate for another solution. But the Grand Coven—or, at least Richard Cole—seems to have it out for Jimmy already. If he's going to be a target, he might as well make it worth his while, right? Maybe if he performs the spell far, far away, no one will ever know it was him. There might be rumors and allegations, but no proof. Cole and Grant are probably more interested in finding Charlotte right now than tailing Jimmy on the off-chance he slips up.

"What are you thinking?" Robert wonders.

"I'm thinking about breaking the rules."

"Pagey..." Robert's eyes widen, because he knows how serious this is.

"Don't try to talk me out of it. You'll just regret it later."

Robert opens his mouth as though ready to argue, then closes it. After a moment of consideration, he says, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to sic Allison's spirit onto someone else. Make her haunt them instead."

"Being haunted is dreadful, Pagey. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

"Because you're a better person than I am," Jimmy says with a smirk. "But if your parents won't offer some of their mementos of your sister, then I can't force you to lose the only one you've got. If we drive out far enough, I don't think anyone will find out..."

Robert looks apprehensive, nervously fidgeting with the doll. "I don't want you putting yourself at risk for me."

"Tough shit. We'll need to go back to the shop for a few things. And bring the doll along. It'll be our link to her spirit."

"You're sure about this?"

"Mostly." Before Robert can protest, Jimmy says, "C'mon, you drive."

At the shop, Jimmy gathers a variety of herbs and materials for a hex spell. Robert shadows him nervously but doesn't say a word, and a companionable silence falls around them. Jimmy still doesn't know what any of this means, and he's fairly certain he's about to make a cataclysmically stupid decision, but he refuses to break Robert's heart again after all the poor guy's suffered.

Jimmy doesn't trust himself to drive, still too tipsy from the booze, so he gives Robert directions from the passenger seat of the truck. He shivers and switches on the heater to dispel the cold air inside the cab. "So where are we going?" Robert asks as they roll down the expressway. The road is dark, lit only by tailights and the moon.

"Out of the city, that's certain. I have to make sure we're someplace secluded so the Grand Coven can't find me."

"You think they're following you?"

"I think it's certainly possible." Jimmy fills Robert in on what happened with Charlotte. Robert listens to the entire story with zero interruptions, and to a stranger it would appear as though he wasn't listening at all. But Jimmy knows Robert, knows the way his brow creases and his mouth twitches when he's absorbing information.

"Does this Cole chap know you thwarted whatever he was planning to do to her?" Robert asks when Jimmy's finished.

"It's a possibility. I'm sure I'm on his list of suspects. He already doesn't like me, so this is simply fuel to the fire."

Robert exhales in a particularly frustrated way and pulls off onto the shoulder of the road.

"Why are we stopping?" Jimmy asks.

Robert's anger materializes like a sudden storm. "Because you're being an arse!"

"Me? What'd I do?"

"I don't want you in danger because of me, Pagey." The fury in Robert's voice vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "I love you, and I can't let you do this. I'll just burn the bloody thing and get this over with."

Jimmy's still stuck on that one word, trying to make sense of it, as Robert pulls back onto the road and finds the nearest exit. "You love me?" he manages to say while they're stopped at a red light. Despite the heater, the truck cab is still ice cold, and Jimmy tugs his sleeves over his hands for warmth.

Robert blinks and looks away, his cheeks flushed red. "I shouldn't've said that..."

"No, no, it's—I needed to hear it."

The light turns green. Robert accelerates, and Jimmy opens his mouth to say more, to say those three words back, but the suddenness and loudness of the crash blows every other sound in the world out of existence. Jimmy feels the sickening, crunching impact, hears the high-pitched scream of tires, the imploding windows showering him with glass.

The first thing Jimmy notices as he resurfaces into semiconsciousness is that Robert is gone. There's blood and shattered fragments of glass on the empty driver's seat. The driver's side door is wide open, showcasing the crushed grille and twisted metal of another truck, and Jimmy's manic heartbeat kicks into overdrive. He sucks in a breath, and his ribs convulse. His jittery hand gropes blindly for the release on his seat belt. Jimmy manages to climb out of the car on wobbly legs and sees Robert lying in a mangled heap a few feet away from the grille, and he can see the clamour of the crowd gathered around the accident, but there is no sound, because Robert is on the ground and he's not moving, and Jimmy feels the scream building in his throat, feels the raw edges of a thousand wounded muscles as he rushes over and falls to his knees beside Robert.

"Fuck, Robert, c'mon," Jimmy rasps, each word making his chest ache. Robert's broken body is a mess, the front of his shirt smeared and soaked with blood, and Jimmy reaches out with a trembling hand to feel for a pulse, but there's nothing there, and Jimmy feels despair rise up inside of him, because Robert can't be dead, that can't be how this ends, and with resolute certainty Jimmy reveals the existence of magick.

It happens without thinking, as though someone else is piloting Jimmy's body, otherworldly intervention plotting the course of his supernatural abilities. Using one of the many shards of broken glass scattered over the concrete, Jimmy slices open his own arm. He takes one of Robert's limp, bleeding limbs and holds their wounds together. " _Anima corpori. Fuerit corpus totem resurgent_." Jimmy chants the words until they have no meaning, until Robert jolts to life, coughing and gasping for air like he's been held underwater, and Jimmy is so relieved, so fucking happy that nothing else in the world matters, because Robert is alive again.

"Oh thank fuck," Jimmy shakes out as Robert sits up, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him. He's still trembling, and the pain circling through him is every color of the rainbow, but pain means nothing to Jimmy right now.

"Pagey, what happened?" Robert asks, most likely noticing the crowd gathered around the wreckage. Jimmy is dimly aware of the commotion, of sirens shrieking in the distance. "Is that my truck?"

Jimmy pulls back to look at him and touch his face, tactile reassurance that he isn't imagining this. "Yeah, we had a bit of an accident."

"Are you okay?" Robert asks, and it's just like him to be worried more about Jimmy than himself, and Jimmy feels a hot tingle spreading in his cheeks and growing outward.

"I'm fine. I'm just happy to see you're okay."

Robert lifts his fingers to Jimmy's face, underneath his nostrils, and the digits come away bloody. "You're bleeding," he says, and the pain has caught up to Jimmy now, sudden and complete, and as consciousness leaks out of him Robert's arms seem like the best place to disappear.


	10. Chapter 10

Jimmy wakes up in a hospital room. Robert's looking out the window, his expression nervous and scared. "Hey," Jimmy murmurs, his throat dry.

Robert rushes over to him and takes Jimmy's cold hands in his own. "Oh, Pagey, thank God! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Jimmy shifts uncomfortably in the bed as he attempts to sit up. "What about you?"

Robert pulls at the front of his shirt, which is covered in blood. _His own_ , Jimmy thinks with a shudder. "'M not really sure," he says, examining his shirt. "I feel okay, but I don't remember anything after the crash. I just... I felt this pain, this white-hot... something. And then blackness."

"Yeah, you passed out for a while there. Scared the bloody hell out of me."

"So did you."

Jimmy keeps Robert's hand tight in his own, and he feels the hotness forming at the base of his throat. Robert died today. Jimmy can't wrap his head around it, but there it is. "Did they say what happened to me?"

"You lost a lot of blood, and I think I heard something about a cracked rib. We're lucky no one was seriously hurt."

Robert doesn't remember dying. He doesn't even fucking _know_. Oh Christ. Jimmy begins to shiver, and Robert tucks him into the bed, wrapping the flimsy hospital blanket around him. "You need to rest. Let me get you something to eat, okay?" He leans over and presses a tender kiss to Jimmy's clammy forehead. Jimmy reaches for him as he leaves, but his arm dangles uselessly over the metal railing of the bed, and he can see the tubes snaking into his veins, pumping in blood and fluids.

While Robert is gone, Jimmy tries to sort this all out in his head. The crash couldn't have been a coincidence. He remembers how cold it had been inside the truck. Could that be an indicator of Allison's spirit? Robert's house was always cold when the ghost was present, so it would stand to reason the same logic applies inside the truck as well. If the doll is the crux of all this, having it in such close proximity was probably a contributing factor.

So let's say Allison is pissed off at Robert for surviving that night in the woods or for not protecting her. Whatever the reason, she's angry and devastated, so her spirit haunts Robert and terrorizes his daughter. The presence eventually drives away Robert's wife and finds a way to wedge itself between him and anyone he gets close to. Because if Allison can't be happy, why should Robert be?

The last thing Robert said to Jimmy before the wreck was that he loved him, and that may have driven Allison's enraged spirit to possess another driver to wreck into them. Such power in a short burst wouldn't be too unbelievable, since Allison's spirit has stuck around in this realm for so long, gaining strength until she can be at peace.

Jimmy drifts and dozes, fatigue burning like embers in every muscle. He wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later when Robert sets a bag of potato chips and a soda can on the tray table beside his bed. "Try to eat, Pagey," Robert whispers, gently pulling up a chair at Jimmy's bedside. "You'll feel a lot better."

Jimmy opens the chips and begins to eat. After a moment or two, he presents his theory about the crash to Robert. Robert nods and sits back in his chair, listening with rapt attention. "Y'know, what I don't get is if Allison wanted to hurt me, then how come I don't have a scratch on me?" Robert asks when Jimmy's finished.

Jimmy shrugs, feigning casual. "You got lucky, I guess."

Robert makes a face, like he doesn't buy that explanation.

"All she could do was possess the other driver for a few seconds, just long enough to make them crash into us. People do wreck and emerged unscathed sometimes, you know." Jimmy doesn't want to talk about this any longer than he has to, unwilling to address the topic of Robert's rebirth. There's also the troubling subject of his own low strength. His aura feels _off_ somehow, and he doubts it's because of the blood loss.

Robert doesn't push, though. "I called Bonzo. He'll pick us up in the morning when you're released. They're just keeping you overnight for observation."

"What time is it?"

Robert glances at the clock on the wall. "We've got some time to go."

"Goddamn it."

"Do you want me to call Jonesy for you, pass on a message?"

Jimmy's heart clenches. "No, no, that's—that's okay. I'll call him myself." He can't exactly make out the numbers on the clock, but he knows it's well past Jonesy's bedtime. "He's a morning person anyway."

"I should find the doll and burn it," Robert says.

Hell no. Robert's not going near that fucking thing again. "Well, hold on. We've got time," Jimmy says, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I don't think Allison can do anything to us or Carmen from this far away. That's probably why Carmen likes being over at Bonzo's so much, and why she was acting out in school so she'd be kept late. There's a sort of... radius that Allison can reach. As long as the doll is a certain distance away from you or Carmen, Allison doesn't have any power."

Robert's eyes fill with hope. "So, wait, maybe we don't have to burn it and sever her ties to this world. I could send the doll back to my folks or put it in a storage locker."

Jimmy smirks ruefully. "Do you remember that Twilight Zone episode where the possessed doll kept fucking with Telly Savalas?" Robert slumps his shoulders, understanding the reference. "Besides, it's not healthy for a spirit to be in this world so long. It would be cruel to make her stay here for eternity just because you don't want to lose her again." Jimmy pretends not to hear the irony in that statement. "We can find out where the truck is and burn the doll in the morning."

Robert nods and drops his gaze to the IV in Jimmy's arm. He traces his finger over the bandage covering the spot where Jimmy cut himself for the spell. "I could've lost you..."

"Carmen could have lost _you_."

Robert shuts his eyes, as though unwilling to tread that mental territory. "Why don't we just agree to be happy we're alive?"

"Sounds good to me."

Time passes in a slow drag. Robert and Jimmy entertain themselves by setting up the wastebasket on the windowsill and tossing crumpled tissues into it. At some point in the night, Jimmy falls asleep, and he's awakened in the morning by a nurse checking his vitals one last time before dismissing him with a prescription for pain meds.

Robert, he learns, has spent the night in the chair at Jimmy's bedside, because he looks like he didn't get much sleep and is wearing the same blood-caked clothes from yesterday. Jimmy places a quick call to Jonesy before he leaves, and Bonzo meets the two of them in the hospital parking lot.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?" Bonzo asks, astonished at the sight of Robert and Jimmy.

"I told you we were in a bit of a wreck," Robert reminds him, helping Jimmy into the passenger side of Bonzo's truck. He climbs into the back seat, contorting his long legs to fit.

"I was expecting a lot less blood." Bonzo slides into the driver's seat and adjusts his mirrors. "So, where to, Plant?"

Jimmy rubs his face, his eyes still adjusting to the bright morning light. "Golden Dawn on Royal. I need to get my car."

Bonzo gets them on the road, and Jimmy grunts in pain every time they hit a bump. Jonesy's just beginning to open up the shop when they arrive. The bell above the door announces their entry, and Jonesy looks horrified at the sight of them.

"Oh my God, Jim! You said you'd been in an accident but I didn't think—" He gets a good look at Robert. "What happened to you?"

"I'm still not sure," Robert says with a shrug and an uneasy laugh.

"Robert," Jimmy orders, "go upstairs and pick out some clothes that don't make you look like a murderer."

While Robert's upstairs, Jimmy turns to Jonesy. "I hate to do this to you, but would you mind running the shop for an hour or so? Robert and I have a bit of an errand to run. I'll try to make it back before lunch."

"Y—yeah, no problem. I can handle it," Jonesy says with a confident, albeit shy, smile. "What's the errand, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I've got to find Robert's car. There's something inside of it we need."

"The police ought to know where it is. You'll be able to find wherever they took it, at least."

That's such an obvious answer, Jimmy's embarrassed he didn't think of it earlier. But to be fair, he hasn't been on his A-game lately.

While Robert's upstairs changing, Jimmy places a call to the police department and gets the location of the impound.

"Did you really have to pretend to be Robert?" Jonesy wonders after Jimmy's hung up the phone.

"I wasn't sure they'd give me the information if I didn't."

"The accent was a bit much."

"You don't think I sound like a Brummie?" Jimmy asks, doing his best impersonation of Robert's voice.

"Pagey, are you having a laugh at my expense?" Robert wonders as he descends the stairs.

"Lovingly."

Now that Robert's changed into non-bloody clothes, they locate the truck at the impound. Jimmy has to persuade the attendant to look the other way while they burn the doll—though Robert's convinced it's more of a bribe. They watch it burn to embers, and Robert lights a cigarette from the flame, which strikes Jimmy as a bit sacrilegious somehow, but whatever, he's a had a tough day.

"I should go see Carmen and tell her everything's okay," he says.

"Not in this ghastly thing. You'll frighten her."

Robert huffs out smoke. "Will you let me take your car, then?"

Jimmy pilfers the cigarette from Robert's fingers and takes a puff. "I'll drive you."

"Then you'll just have to drive me back here for the truck," Robert says before stealing back the cigarette.

"Fine. But I'm not letting you out of my sight after—" Jimmy stops himself before he says too much.

They end up compromising and taking both cars into Carrollton. Maureen lives just a few minutes away from Tulane University in a small, salmon-colored Shotgun-style house. Jimmy tries to hide the truck's horrifying damage by parking the Impala in front of it, but the busted glass is still visible to anyone with eyes. Robert swings around the small, wrought-iron fence, climbs the front steps, and knocks.

The person who answers the door isn't Maureen, but Carmen. She sees Robert and flings herself into his arms, squealing, "Daddy!" and sort of sobbing into his chest. "I was so scared—I thought you were—I thought she—"

Maureen rushes to the door, and a look of relief crosses her face when she sees Robert there and not some perverted stranger. She's a beautiful woman, with dark hair and tanned skin and expressive, wide eyes. "God, Robert, I've been trying to get a hold of you all day!" That's when she notices Jimmy standing there. "I don't believe we've met?"

Jimmy offers his hand, and she takes it. "Jimmy Page. I'm a friend of Robert's. I've been working with him to handle the ghost problem."

"And how's that working out for you?" Maureen asks with tired humor.

"I think we've solved it. That's why we're here."

Carmen is still holding Robert tightly, as though he might disappear if she lets go. "I had a dream she hurt you," she whimpers.

"Who?" Robert asks, but Jimmy's already one step ahead.

"Allison?"

Carmen looks horrified by the name. She gapes at Jimmy. "How do you know her?"

Jimmy kneels down to Carmen's level. "Everything's okay. She won't be able to hurt you or your dad anymore. I promise."

Robert takes Maureen into the house to fill her in on what happened. Jimmy sits with Carmen outside, and they rock back and forth in the white chairs on the front porch. "I know about Allison," Jimmy says softly. "Do you want to tell me about her?"

Carmen looks up at him. "You promise she can't hurt Daddy?"

"I promise. Pinkie swear."

Carmen nods, seeming to understand the intensity of a pinkie swear. "I thought she was my friend. She would sit in my room with me and tell me stories. But she said I couldn't tell or she'd hurt my dad."

"But she did hurt him, didn't she?"

Another nod. "She knocked Daddy's tooth out. There was blood everywhere. But I didn't tell, I swear!"

"Did Allison say anything about a doll?"

"Yeah, she said Susie was her favorite, but I didn't bring her with me."

"Susie's gone," Jimmy says. "Allison was only able to talk to you and hurt your dad because Susie was..." He trails off, wondering how to explain. "You know how a lamp works because you put a bulb in and it gives off light? Susie was sort of like the light bulb. The only way Allison could 'work' was because Susie was plugged in to her."

"So since Susie's gone, so is Allison?"

"She can't hurt anyone anymore."

Carmen seems to accept this, but Jimmy knows there's more to be mined here.

"Did you want to tell me about your dream?"

Carmen hesitates at first, nervously plucking at her nails, but she eventually opens up. "I dreamt that Allison killed my dad."

Despite the midday warmth, Jimmy feels an icy hand reach into his gut.

"Well, it was just a dream. Your dad is perfectly fine."

"Then how come the truck is broken?"

"It's not broken," Jimmy says, which is bullshit, because it's kind of amazing the damn thing's still running. "It just got beat up. Your dad was in a bit of an accident, but he's okay. The truck took most of the damage. Maybe your connection to your dad is so strong that you can sort of sense when something happens to him. And that was why you had that dream."

Carmen notices Jimmy's bandaged arm and lays her hand over it. "What happened?"

"I was in the car with your dad when he wrecked. Some broken glass cut me, but I'm okay." Jimmy still isn't sure why his aura feels off, even after his fluids have been replaced and the shock has worn off. That resurrection spell must have taken more out of him than he thought.

"You promise she's gone?" Carmen wonders. "'Cause you said that before and you were wrong."

"If I had known who she was, I could have made her go away sooner." Jimmy watches her, and she looks oddly guilty, like she blames herself for what happened. "None of this is your fault. I know you were scared to tell someone about her because she said she'd hurt you or your dad. It's okay to be scared sometimes, but next time you get scared, tell your dad or your mum or me so we can help, okay?"

Carmen nods and hugs Jimmy, and Jimmy feels his heart shudder, undeserving of her appreciation.


	11. Chapter 11

Charlotte shows up at the shop three days later with Lori in tow. Jimmy's surprised by how relieved he is to see her. "Did you murder Cole in his sleep or what?" he jokes, but the girls are in no mood for humor.

"What've you done, Jimmy?" Lori asks. "Your aura has been out of whack for four days now. That doesn't just happen."

"Maybe not to you, but did it ever occur to you I might be _physically exerting_ myself a bit much?" Jimmy winks, as though they might have missed the double entendre.

Charlotte scrunches up her face at him. "Don't try to bullshit me. I can see inside your head."

"Hey, hey, you can't tell for sure what's real and what's imagined," Jimmy accuses, feeling like his shoes have been nailed to the floor.

"What did you do?" Lori begs, and it strikes Jimmy that these girls truly care for him. Charlotte most likely came out of hiding to help him, so it's probably in his best interest to admit what he's done and accept whatever aid they can give.

Jimmy's about to do just that when the bell above the door rings and Robert strolls in. Pandemonium erupts in Jimmy's stomach, his innards running for cover. "Umm..."

Charlotte and Lori glance at Robert. Lori approaches him the way one might approach a caged bear. She reaches her hand out, touches his arm, and immediately startles back like he's bitten her.

Charlotte whirls to look at Jimmy. "Oh God, you actually did it, didn't you?"

"What's going on, Pagey?" Robert wonders. Even Jonesy looks invested in the disaster unfolding before them.

Jimmy wants to shrink to the size of an ant and slip between the cracks of the floorboards. "C'mon, I know you—you're jealous, but what two people do in their own—behind closed doors—you can't just look into my head to fulfill your sexual fantasies." His voice quakes like a goddamn fault line, and, Christ, could he have fucked up the delivery of that stupid joke any more?

Lori, however, is having none of it. "Robert died, didn't he? And you brought him back."

Robert's confused expression crumples in pain, like he's been stabbed. "What? Pagey, what's she talking about?"

Jimmy wishes someone would just pull out a gun and fucking shoot him so he doesn't have to look at the anguish on Robert's face. "Don't."

"Jimmy, please. We can't help you if you're not honest with us," Charlotte says.

Jimmy stares at the three of them, trembling and sweating, and swallows back the lump in his throat. "I couldn't let him die... I couldn't."

"How could you do that?" Lori wails.

Robert just looks gutted. "I died?"

"What do you think Cole's gonna do when he finds out?" Charlotte asks.

Jimmy rakes a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I know, I know, I just—I need to think. It's—it's Robert, right? His soul? That's how you can tell?"

Lori nods. "It's tainted. Anyone who can read auras can sense it."

"Well, how do we fix it?"

"You can't. When Robert died, you gave him some of your life essence."

"Like a blood transfusion?"

"More like mixing red and yellow to get orange," Lori explains. "It's a permanent change."

"Goddamn it," Jimmy growls.

"You brought me back to life?" Robert asks in disbelief, still stuck on that particular part of the dilemma.

"Of course I did—Jesus, you think I'd just let you die?"

"But I didn't want you to put yourself in danger for me!"

"Tough shit. At least you'll still be around for Carmen." Jimmy paces the floor. "Now, how the hell am I s'posed to keep the Grand Coven from finding out?" For one, he can't kill them. There's too many of them, and, like Lori said, anyone who can read auras—which isn't limited to members of the Grand Coven—can tell Robert's soul is tainted. Jimmy isn't keen on living the rest of his life in hiding, either, with or without Robert.

Jimmy stops in his tracks as an idea flickers to life. "Wait! Lori? You said Robert's soul is tainted, but can you tell by who?"

Lori's brow creases, like she's trying to follow Jimmy's train of thought. "No."

"Do you think it's possible at all for someone to be able to tell I was the one who brought him back?"

"I don't think it works that way..."

"So what if I got rid of my powers? Robert's soul might be tainted, but if I were human no one would think twice about it. I wouldn't even be a suspect." And if Jimmy doesn't have powers, the Grand Coven can't execute him.

Charlotte and Lori exchange looks. "I don't—I guess that would work," Lori says slowly. "I'm not sure if anyone's ever done it. Usually it's the other way around."

Jimmy's heart races. Could there really be a way out of this? "How would I go about finding a spell or ritual to do so? Does one even exist?"

"You'll have to visit Magnus," Lori says.

"Who?"

She sighs like Jimmy should already know this. "Magnus is a guy who lives near the Jean Lafitte swamps. In his shack, he's collected every scroll and spell dating back to thousands of years."

"So he's basically a librarian for wizards?"

She shrugs and sort of nods. "If that kind of spell exists, he probably has it."

"And you know how to get there? Could you give me directions?" The drive should only take him about thirty minutes.

"I can draw you a map," Lori says.

"Even better." Jimmy hands her paper and a pen before turning to Jonesy. "Would you mind tending the shop 'til I get back?"

"Sure, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, you're really gonna give up your powers?"

"It's either that or die, so, yeah. I am." A no-brainer, really. Jimmy wonders briefly if Jonesy feels some sort of resentment towards Robert, because if Jimmy hadn't been involved with him none of this would have happened. "Hey, c'mon, don't look so glum. I might end up turning this place into a bake shop. Think of all the money you could make if you could sell unlimited amounts of cookies and breads."

Jonesy's eyes go wide. "You would—"

"Well, there isn't much of a point in me owning a curio shop if I'm no longer a wizard, now does it?" That had been Jimmy's claim to fame here, and once he loses his powers he's no different than any of the other non-magical hoodoo salespeople in the city.

Jonesy looks like he's about to cry. "Jim..."

"Oh, don't get all weepy."

Lori hands over the paper. "Here. I'm not a great artist, but you get the idea, right?"

Jimmy studies the crudely-drawn map. "Somewhere around Bayou des Familles, right?"

"There aren't a lot of people living there, so you'll find it."

Jimmy nods and folds the map neatly into his back pocket. "Alright, I'm off."

"Wait!" Robert cries, barricading the front door. "You can't be serious?"

"Robert, get out of the way," Jimmy sighs. "It's only about a half-hour drive. I'll be back before you know it—"

"Then I'm going with you."

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to you."

Robert doesn't so much as talk to Jimmy as he does pout at him accusingly from the passenger seat of the Impala. Jimmy tries his best to ignore it, but he's never been any good at turning the other cheek when someone's upset with him, especially when it's his fault. His sins hang in the air, thick and muggy like gumbo and mudslides.

"Are you expecting me to apologize?" Jimmy asks as they cross over the Mississippi. "Because I won't."

"I don't know how to feel about this," Robert says. "I understand why you did it, but I still feel sort of violated, like I didn't have a choice."

"So you would've preferred I let you die, then?"

Robert sighs a defeated, exhausted noise. "Well, no, but... I never wanted you putting yourself at risk for me."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Carmen, so she wouldn't have to grow up without a father."

Robert makes a face like he doesn't have an argument for that. He tries another angle instead. "And now you're giving up your powers for me."

"I'm doing that to stay alive."

"But you wouldn't be in any position to do it if you hadn't brought me back."

"Which I just told you I did for Carmen. None of this has anything to do with you." Jimmy shoots him a look when they're stopped at a light. "You're awfully self-absorbed, aren't you?"

"I'm a Leo," Robert grins. "It's sort of our thing."

Jimmy smiles and keeps driving. It's a beautiful day for a drive like this, though the Impala's A/C struggles to combat the moist, sultry heat. Robert rolls down the window and lights a cigarette. They drive in comfortable silence for a while until he speaks again. "What're you going to do if this spell doesn't exist?"

"I'll just have to figure something else out."

"Like what?"

"Hell if I know." Jimmy thinks for a moment. "Maybe... we'll have to split up."

Robert looks wounded, and it's no easier to watch a second time around.

"Cole and Grant will probably be watching me for a while, and as long as you're not around, they'll never know what I did to your soul. But if we're together, it won't be too difficult for them to put the pieces together."

Robert sinks in his seat like someone's let the air out of him.

"I hope it doesn't come to that. Losing my powers is nothing compared to losing you," Jimmy says, entirely aware of how cheesy that sounds, but Robert deserves to know.

A small smile grows on Robert's lips, but it's dampened by his next question. "I thought magick was your life's True Will or what have you."

Jimmy's amazed Robert even remembers that conversation. "Maybe it was supposed to lead me to you. Maybe you're my True Will."

Robert snorts a laugh. "Maybe you're pulling all this out of your arse."

"Don't laugh. I'm being sincere."

"Well, practice makes perfect, I s'pose."

Jimmy chuckles, feeling a twinge in his chest when he thinks about giving this up. He's only known Robert for a little while, but the thought of living without him is unfathomable.

They keep driving until the Louisiana 45 takes them through thick walls of bright green trees on either side of them. The smell of swamp hangs in the air as they roll down the two-lane blacktop. "What's the map say?" Jimmy asks, unwilling to risk a glance at the paper in Robert's lap, because knowing his luck a fucking Sasquatch will walk into the road if he looks away for a split-second.

"Mm, looks like you're in the right area. Though it doesn't look like there's a road that leads to it, so we might have to get out and walk."

Jimmy frowns at the idea of walking through the swampy, humid mossland. "Lovely."

Before he can pull off to the side of the road, Jimmy sees a familiar, battered golden Cadillac veer around the bend in the rear-view mirror. He hopes against hope that the car will simply zoom past them, but he recognizes this car for a reason, and not only because it's been sort of tailing them since they left the shop.

The Cadillac swerves on the empty road, the front end smashing into the side of the Impala and sending it careening off the blacktop and into the soggy ditch separating the road from the trees. Jimmy feels the impact in his bones, feels the shower of glass blasting into the car, and can't help but think of how thankful he is that the impact came from his side instead of Robert's.

The Cadillac's doors fly open. Dread sinks in Jimmy's stomach like a lead weight as Richard Cole and Peter Grant emerge from the vehicle. They're not holding any weapons, but that doesn't mean they aren't armed.

"What's going on?" Robert asks in a hushed, panicked voice. "Is that them?"

"Yeah," Jimmy murmurs. He tries to gun the engine, but the tires have gotten stuck in the mud, and forward motion is not happening here. "God damn it."

"Try reverse," Robert says, and Jimmy knows that won't make a bit of difference, but he's desperate, so he tries anyway. Nothing.

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Cole says, approaching the vehicle. "We just want to talk."

Jimmy's fairly certain that's bullshit. You don't run someone off the road if you just want to talk. "Hell of a way to start a conversation."

"You're a hard man to find lately."

Peter Grant comes around to Robert's side of the car. He's wearing an unreadable expression on his face, and Jimmy's heart bangs against his ribcage in a panic. There's no way these two can't sense Robert's aura from here.

"Well, you found me," Jimmy says, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.

Cole approaches Jimmy's bashed-in window. "May I ask where you two are headed?"

Since he asked politely... "Just taking a bit of a drive. Louisiana's beautiful this time of year."

Cole frowns. "Why don't you and your friend step out of the car?"

"Your cop impression is spot on," Jimmy jokes, because that's what he does when he's nervous. Cole is not amused. Jimmy runs through his options here. The car isn't a viable escape route, and everything he might be able to use as a weapon is in the trunk, so getting out is advantageous. He'll be able to dart into the swamp and hide amongst the trees. Jimmy takes a breath and opens the car door. "C'mon, Robert," he coaxes.

Robert's a little apprehensive about getting out of the car, though, and Grant grabs the front of Robert's shirt in his huge fist and pulls him out. Jimmy sees the confusion on Grant's brow, the glimmer of realization in his eyes, and he knows Grant has sensed the irregularity in Robert's aura. Grant's hand falls away and drops to his side. "He's been brought back," he says, looking at Cole.

The adrenaline flowing through Jimmy's veins is nearly crippling, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to harness the hysterical pulse of it. His legs feel like jelly, his heart like a cocaine-fueled drum solo.

Cole eyes Jimmy suspiciously. "Would you know anything about this? That wouldn't have anything to do with the car accident the two of you were in recently, would it?"

"Just a fender-bender," Jimmy says, and even he hears the way his voice shakes. "I've been getting into a lot of car-related mishaps lately."

Cole isn't buying it. Jimmy contemplates his next move when he hears a crunching sound, like beetles being stepped on, and the sound of someone yelling in pain. Then Robert's voice calls out, "Run!" and Jimmy doesn't have to be told twice. He dashes around the rear of the car and into the tree-laden swamp. Robert matches him stride for stride, dashing beside him as they weave through trees, their shoes splashing in puddles of water the color of grime and mud.

"Should we split up?" Robert manages to ask through frenzied breaths.

"No! I'm not losing you again."

"Then where do we go? To Magnus?"

"Anywhere public," Jimmy huffs out. His muscles burn with exertion, the ocean roaring in his ears. "Just keep running." They're moving too fast for Jimmy to look behind him and see if Cole and Grant have given chase. It's a safe bet to assume that, yeah, they're being pursued.

Jimmy's brain is pretty focused on getting the fuck out of here, but every now and then he uses telekinesis to snap branches off trees and send them flying backwards. He doesn't check to see if they hit their targets, just keeps moving.

Robert shrieks and drops to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. Jimmy stops, whirls around to grab him. Cole and Grant are catching up, and Grant's face is smeared with sticky red. Robert must have headbutted him earlier when they made their escape.

"C'mon," Jimmy says, pulling at Robert's shirt and hauling him upright. "Keep moving." Robert stumbles again and yelps in pain. He clutches onto Jimmy, and his weight threatens to send Jimmy crashing to the ground.

"My ankle—I think it's twisted."

Shit. Fuck. God damn it. Jimmy refuses to believe they're going down like this. There is no way a twisted ankle is getting them killed. That's a worst-case scenario, and that's bullshit.

"Walk it off," Jimmy says, pulling Robert along by the hand, forcing him to match Jimmy's gait.

Robert's wincing and whimpering with each step, and it kills Jimmy to hear, but they need to survive.

That's when someone starts throwing tree branches at them. A branch whistles past them and crashes into a tree directly ahead. Jimmy glances over his shoulder to see another zooming right for them. He ducks and weaves, forcing Robert to run or be dragged. "He's fucking shooting at us," Robert cries, because the branches are, at these speeds, gigantic arrows.

"Cole wants me alive," Jimmy says as they scramble forward. "I think he's just trying to slow us down."

"Can you put up some sort of forcefield?" Robert asks, the last syllable coming out with a gasp as his foot hits the ground at a particularly bad angle. Jimmy keeps him upright, keeps him moving, because they can't stop.

"Too much energy," Jimmy huffs out. Then the ground gives way to water, and they're rushing toward a canal or river or some body of water, and there's a sheet of green algae floating on top, obscuring the depth and what lies beneath. But there's no stopping, so Jimmy splashes through the murky waters, losing his breath when his feet don't find solid ground.

It's not that far to the other side of the riverbank, but it feels like miles for someone who never properly learned to swim. Jimmy struggles in the water and dry-heaves when some of it splashes in his mouth. "Robert?" Jimmy looks over his shoulder, sees Grant and Cole wading into the water behind them, and when he's face forward again the water explodes in a burst of huge jaws and angry teeth.

Jimmy hears himself scream, because he's going to fucking die here, going to be devoured by a fucking gator of all things, then there's an insistent tug on his arm, drawing him across the water, away from the gator's gaping mouth. In a flash of desperation, Jimmy focuses all his energies on the gator, projecting a thought into its head. Because mind-controlling humans is frowned upon, but animals? No rule against that.

Cole and Grant try to splash away from the gator, but they're too close, and Jimmy's already told the animal what to do. Cole is caught under the crushing weight of the gator's jaws, teeth digging into him, pulling and grasping. Jimmy doesn't look back, even when Cole's screams of agony overlap Grant's, even when the water runs red. Robert helps Jimmy to the other side of the riverbank, dragging him ashore as they struggle to ignore the sounds of death nearby.

"Oh shit," Jimmy gasps, over and over until the words have no meaning anymore. "Fuck, Jesus Christ..."

Robert leans against a tree trunk to take his weight off his injured ankle. He's panting soft noises of horror and hysteria much like Jimmy's own.

"How did you know?" Jimmy asks through gasps for breath. "That I could tell that thing to go after them?"

Robert sort of shrugs. "You told me you could."

"And you were just banking on me being able to save our asses instead of shitting my pants in fear?"

"You already saved me once," Robert says, and, fucking hell, what did Jimmy do to deserve someone who has so much faith in him? "I figured you'd find a way to do it again."

"Jesus," Jimmy huffs out, and promptly vomits onto the ground.

When the screaming stops, Jimmy makes damn sure the floating bodies in the river aren't moving before he lets himself relax. "So what now?" Robert asks, twisting the front of his shirt and wringing out the water. "Do we still need to find this Magnus bloke?"

"Well, we've come this far," Jimmy says with a shrug. "But the rest of the Grand Coven won't appreciate what I've done with your soul. And now that Grant and Cole are dead, I might look even more suspicious."

"How?"

"Do you think they'd buy the story that Grant and Cole went spelunking out in the swamps? And just so happened to get eaten by a gator? The cops will buy it, but not the Grand Coven." Jimmy lifts his shaky arms to squeeze the water out of his hair. "Did you leave the map back in the car?"

Robert nods. "Should we head back then?"

"Yeah, 's probably best."


	12. Chapter 12

It takes them ten minutes to walk back to the car. They manage to edge the Impala out of the muddy gulch, just enough to get it moving again. They paint the seats with grimy water and algae, and Jimmy tries not to think about how much it's going to cost to get the car reupholstered and rid of the swamp smell.

The map leads them to a gravel-dirt split that carries them off the main highway. After a minute or so of driving down this skinny, strange road, they approach a rickety wooden shack about the size of a small house. Jimmy stops the car and just stares for a moment. "How's your foot?" he asks Robert after a few seconds.

Robert looks a little startled to be asked. "Oh, um, well, it could be better."

"Do you wanna stay in the car, then?"

"I think I'll be fine. I might need to save your arse again if this bloke's not as friendly as we hope."

Jimmy nods and gets out of the car. They approach the door, and he knocks. After a moment, the door yawns open, and a tall, wiry aging hippie peers out at them. He gets a good look at his visitors and frowns. "Oh boy."

"You must be Magnus," Jimmy says. "You probably know why we're here, so I'll keep it short. I'm Jimmy Page. I'm a wizard. I heard you have a collection of spells."

"Who's your friend?"

"Oh, Robert? He doesn't have any special powers." Except being ridiculously attractive, but Jimmy keeps that one to himself. "But he's sort of the reason I'm here."

Magnus eyes them suspiciously for a moment or two before opening the door wide enough for them to enter. Jimmy accepts the invitation but is immediately stopped by some sort of invisible barrier. Robert, however, walks inside without a problem.

Jimmy lifts an eyebrow. "Warded against the supernatural?" Makes sense. "Then you're not..."

Magnus shakes his head. "I'm what you might call a 'supernatural enthusiast.'"

"So you're human." Jimmy lingers in the doorway. "You gonna let me in?"

Magnus does something out of sight, then says, "Come in."

Jimmy steps inside without a problem. The interior of the shack is what he expected, albeit filled with a hell of a lot more reading material. Books are everywhere: stacked, shelved, scattered over the floor. The walls—at least, the parts of them not obscured by shelving and books—are covered in various sigils intended to ward off demons, witches, and other supernatural beings.

"What sort of spell were you looking for?" Magnus asks, watching Jimmy carefully like he expects him to steal something.

"I was curious if there was a spell or ritual intended to"—Jimmy takes a moment to decide how best to phrase this—"eliminate one's own powers."

Magnus's expression falls. "You're joking."

"So that's a no?"

"I didn't say that." Magnus chuckles, shaking his head. "You've been given a gift, Jimmy. Why are you so eager to throw it away?"

"It's kind of a last resort. Believe me, I'm not happy about it, but you do what you gotta do." Jimmy shrugs like it doesn't bother him. And maybe it doesn't.

"What would make a person want to give up something like that?"

"Someone wanting to kill them for it, for starters."

Magnus considers this. Jimmy just stares at him.

"Look, we almost got eaten by an alligator and murdered by psychopaths," Jimmy pleads. "We've been through some shit to get here."

Magnus shuffles over to a shelf and runs his finger over the spines of the books there as though searching for a particular one. "What kind of trouble are you in, Mr. Page?"

"I just told you. It's a life or death thing. Would you just—"

"Pagey, be nice," Robert scolds in a total dad voice.

Jimmy sighs but keeps quiet. Magnus isn't old, so he's got no reason to be moving so damned slowly.

Magnus stops and withdraws a book from a shelf, carefully flipping through its pages. "I do recall a spell similar to what you're asking for. I remember because it seemed so bizarre to me. A spell, perhaps, to vanquish an enemy's powers I could understand, but one's own?"

"Yeah, it's a real tragedy," Jimmy grouses before Robert elbows him in the side. Magnus just stares at him. "I've got no moves left. Except this."

Magnus nods, but he still looks dubious. He hands the book to Jimmy, who all but snatches it from his hands. The spell requires some powders and herbs he's got back at the shop, as well as his own blood, which he's got plenty of. Mix everything into a bowl and set it aflame while reciting an incantation. None of the steps are very complicated, and seems almost too simple to be useful or even correct.

"I can't guarantee it will work," Magnus says, studying Jimmy's furrowed brow. "Given as I can't try it myself."

Jimmy's inclined to believe the spells here have a pretty good success rate, considering Magnus's precautions in keeping them secure. He wouldn't ward this place against the supernatural if the spells weren't in danger of being stolen.

"I trust that it does," Jimmy says, mostly because he has no choice. This is his only real lead right now, and if it doesn't work he'll have to start from scratch, and it's not like he's got a lot of time to waste throwing ideas around.

Robert comes over to Jimmy and inspects the book for himself. "So this is it, then? What if it hurts you?"

"Nothing we can do about it."

Jimmy copies down the details of the spell on the back of the map Lori drew for them. He thanks Magnus for the information and, as Jimmy and Robert are about to leave, Magnus says, "Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure." It's the least Jimmy can do for the guy.

"If this spell works, don't tell anyone of its existence."

"Okay..." Jimmy chews on that for a bit. "But if someone sees I don't have powers anymore, they're going to figure out that something like this exists."

Magnus sort of shrugs. "Can't be helped. But I don't want witches of ill repute using this spell as a way to cast suspicion off of them in the event they've done something unlawful with their magic."

Jimmy can definitely see how that might be a problem, especially since he's pretty much doing that himself. "My lips are sealed."

* * *

Jimmy performs the spell that night after the shop is closed and Robert's at work. He gathers the herbs and powders, mixes them together in a bowl. His cut from the wreck is still sort of raw and unhealed, so he fusses with it until the gash weeps enough blood for the spell. He opens the window so the smoke has a place to go when he sets the mixture aflame, because he really doesn't want the smoke alarm going off at this time of night. Then he sits on the floor of his loft and settles the bowl across from him.

Jimmy stares into the bowl like it's the last hope he has in the world. The hand holding the lit match trembles, and he realizes he's no longer doubting whether this will work. He's sure of it, and it scares the hell out of him. How easy it had been for him to initiate the rebirth spell without a second thought, despite the consequences. But here he's hesitating like a skydiver trembling in a plane, too cowardly to take the leap. After the wreck, he hadn't needed to be pushed. He was already free-falling, and saving Robert was tantamount to pulling the ripcord. Basic survival. Self-preservation.

Jimmy drops the match into the bowl before he can talk himself out of it.

The contents of the bowl go up in a burst of light and blue flames and fizzy white sparks. Jimmy begins reciting the incantation. " _Ab manu dei. Ab manu hominis_." The air around the fire shimmers, and there's almost no heat radiating from it at all. " _Ab cruore cordis Mei adfusuro in aeternum._ " Turquoise sparks flitter around inside the bowl and around the small pillar of flame, reacting to the words. Smoke boils up from the fire, and Jimmy feels a little woozy. " _Tolle maledictionem tuam ab hoc viro._ "

The flame jumps and makes a crackling sound as Jimmy's neck burns. It feels like a muscle cramp, and he can see thin, blue wisps emerging from his tattoo and joining with the flame as though being pulled. The wisps disappear inside the flame and curl away, and the fire dims and dies into a flitter of blue sparks and ash.

For a moment, Jimmy doesn't move. The air is laden with fading smoke, and his brow is stippled with cold sweat. He's afraid to even breathe, to disrupt the tension stretched through the air. The spell appears to be finished, for better or worse. Jimmy decides to test whether it worked. Tentatively, he attempts to levitate the bowl.

Nothing.

Jimmy isn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he does both.

* * *

Later that night, Jimmy brings over dinner for Robert and Carmen. Carmen greets him with a hug, and Strider happily rushes to him, as though accepting him as part of the family. Robert puts up his usual protests of Jimmy's hospitality, but he looks relieved he doesn't have to cook tonight.

They settle in at the dinner table, and Jimmy's just waiting for Robert to ask about the spell, but Robert seems to be doing his damndest to dance around actually asking the question, so it comes as a relief when Carmen, in typical seven-year-old fashion, addresses the elephant in the room.

"Jimmy, can I have one?" she asks, pointing to the bread basket that's currently on the other side of the table. Jimmy passes her a piece, and she says, "No, I wanted you to make it float."

"I can't do that any more, luv," Jimmy explains.

"How come?"

"Because I took away my special powers to keep your dad safe."

"So you're not a wizard anymore?"

"I'm afraid not."

Carmen thinks about this for a moment and seems to accept it rather easily. "Oh. Okay."

"So, the spell worked?" Robert murmurs to him.

Jimmy smirks. "Were you hoping she would ask so you didn't have to?"

Robert blushes like he's been called out somehow. "Just a bit. It just didn't seem"—he struggles for the word—"right to bring it up."

"Well, it worked." Jimmy knows he'll think about that decision a lot, will spend his fair share of nights wondering if there was a better way to solve this problem. He will undoubtedly encounter situations that will be vastly improved or even solvable with magick, and he will lament his loss of abilities as though mourning the death of a loved one.

"What are you going to do now?" Robert wonders.

"I've been thinking about giving the shop's stock to Lori and Charlotte. They'll certainly have use for it. Maybe they can start their own shop together with the legitimacy mine used to have."

"Are you still on about turning the shop over to Jonesy?"

"I think it's a good idea," Jimmy says, poking at the crab gratin in front of him. "There aren't a lot of bakeries around here, and none of them offer what Jonesy brings to the table, figuratively speaking. It's up to him, of course, but I don't think he'll say no."

"It's good you've got a plan," Robert says with a tight smile.

Jimmy is instantly thankful he performed the spell alone, because if Robert had been there he would have read Jimmy's tears as proof of the spell being a horrible idea. "Oh, c'mon, don't be so down about it. I'm not."

"You will be."

"So what? I made a decision, and I've got to live with it. It was for the best." Because he knows it was, despite all he's lost. "Sometimes you've got to give things up in order to get something even better. I've always known that."

Robert goes pink and red again, his mouth fighting a smile, then he's oddly serious again. "You're sure we're not in any danger?"

"You saw what happened to Cole and Grant," Jimmy says around a bite of food. "Odds are they were looking into us on their own, so the Coven, while perhaps being suspicious of the circumstances, won't know who they were after. No one can prove anything. We're safe."

Robert nods, trusting Jimmy's word. "That's good, then."

After dinner is finished and Carmen has been tucked into bed, Jimmy and Robert sit together on the couch watching TV. Robert's tracing over the faint scar where Jimmy cut his arm, and Jimmy wonders if he even comprehends the weight of it, what that thin white line even means.

Jimmy finds Robert's hand and locks their fingers together. "We both made sacrifices," he says. "You gave up your last link to your sister, and I gave up my magick. This wasn't an unequal trade." He thinks Robert needs to be reminded of that.

"I know," Robert says quietly, like he believes it.

"Being with you makes it all worth it."

Robert makes a soft noise of laughter in his throat. "You flatter me, Pagey."

Jimmy offers him a sidelong smile, then Robert's moving in and tipping Jimmy's chin so he can capture his lips. The kiss is slow and gentle, like Robert's testing whether this is something Jimmy will allow, but Jimmy opens up to make it easier and deeper. His hands push into Robert's hair, crushing him closer.

"I love you," Jimmy murmurs, because Robert said it to him before the wreck, but he never got the chance to say it back.

Robert's lips curl into a goofy smile. "Yeah?"

All the breath leaves Jimmy in one go. How could Robert ever doubt that? "Of course. I should've said it earlier, but I just—Fuck, if that spell didn't work, if I hadn't—You would've died without knowing—"

Robert stops Jimmy's flow of words with a kiss. "I know you do. I just wanted to hear you say it."

"You sneaky bastard."

Robert grins and kisses him again. Jimmy digs his fingers into Robert's hair and lets the world fade away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the story! I'm not sure when I'll write more for this pairing, but in the meantime I'd really enjoy seeing what you guys can come up with! ;) Thank you for reading~


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